


Funhouse

by Starlight713



Series: Atom Bomb Baby [3]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: And the kids too!, Canon-Typical Violence, Complete, Emotions are hard lol, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to friends to enemies again, F/M, Gage leads a complicated life, Gage's POV, Like More Than Usual, Mild Sexual Content, Not even truly a romance, Nuka world dlc, Other, Pining, Possibly Unrequited Love, Preston and Decon cameo, Slow Burn, Swearing, but there IS a slow burn, send help, this is a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 08:13:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10080959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starlight713/pseuds/Starlight713
Summary: Gage wasn't sure what to think of this new Overboss, but what was done was done and now they have to fucking deal with it.





	1. Miss Overboss

                Coulter was listening to the reports damn intently once the bitch made it out of the maze and into the cages. She and the man flanking her killed six Operators like it was nothing. The traps hadn’t so much as touched her. The man had scoped and detonated all of the mines before she’d gotten near them. She’d snuck past and deactivated every other fucking rig. They took out the critters feeding off the dead bodies like it was nothing. There was reason to pay attention. Wasn’t every day someone made it to the arena.

                “Two on one,” Coulter said. “Now _that_ wouldn’t be fair, right Gage?”

                “No, Boss. Don’t think it would be.”

                Coulter was a cowardly sack of shit. Two on one wouldn’t be fair alright. Wouldn’t be fair to the team of two. But Coulter wasn’t about to take any risks. Not with the gangs breathing down his neck like they were. He _needed_ a good ol’ show of dominance to win back some damn respect. This pair was good, but they weren’t _that_ good, what with Coulter’s ace-in-the-hole.

                A Pack runt scrambled over to report. She had just taken down three more—Disciples this time—hand-to-hand. One of them (Bex? Sounded like that dumb bitch Bex) had gone for the man with a knife, and this crazy-ass woman had hauled off and jumped her. Straight-up jumped on her like she was fucking possessed, by the sound of it. Had konked Bex in the head, knocked her right the fuck out, and then smashed the barrel of her shotgun into Bex’s face till it wasn’t a face anymore. Two Operators tried to pull her off Bex (and if it was Bex’s team, the other two just had to be Gigi and Raul), and she had grabbed one by the hair and smashed their damn head into the wall of the cage, while the man shot the other with a sniper rifle at point-blank rage. Sounded like a fucking slaughter. He _knew_ it had been damn stupid to send people in on the ground when they had the damn cage overhead. Coulter never should have had feet touching the dirt—shoulda kept everyone up on top of the cage shooting down. It was little slipups like that what were gonna fuck their day right the hell up.

                Gage nodded to Coulter and then followed the Pack runt out to the front again, to see if he could catch a glimpse of this broad. He didn’t know the runt by name—musta been a new initiate. When he saw her in the sun, it was an epiphany. She wasn’t a trained fighter—the man was, but not her. She was sloppy at best, but effective. Holy shit was she effective. She drew fire by moving non-stop, lunging closer than any sane person oughta to the people who were shooting at her. Her movements were just erratic enough to be unpredictable. She didn’t even seem to have an idea where she was going, so it was impossible to predict. Meanwhile, her sharpshooter (oh yeah—descriptions had been right, and he _had_ to be a merc) would pick people off from behind cover. She’d get one or two, he’d get the rest. If she got antsy, she’d drop a grenade or two and then sprint back to the merc, and he’d yank her back behind cover before the shitstorm went off. Dust bloomed up into the air. Three grenades that time, and she had cleared the last of the bloodthirsty few who’d volunteered to take her out.

                She made eye contact with him when the dust cleared. Her eyes were bright—alert and glowing like she was fucking radioactive. She cocked her shotgun and he stepped out of the way just in time to see bullets rip right through the Pack runt at his side. So much for making it to initiation for that one. He ducked his head back out for a second, crouched so she’d have to adjust her aim before trying to take his head off. She moved like she was feral, but she definitely wasn’t. There was something very calculated about her game. The merc spotted him and Gage ducked back behind cover before a .308 took his nose off his face. It was a closer call than Gage would have liked.

                That was the exact moment he decided it. Coulter was done. Long live the fucking queen. If there was anyone he trusted to shake up the balance of power and replace Coulter, it was this crazy bitch.

                Coulter was waiting for a report when he got back to the arena.

                “All dead. She’ll be at the dugout any second now.” Gage picked up his half-empty bottle of beer and took a swig before sitting down next to Coulter. “You should prolly suit up, Boss.”

                “It is a damn fine day, Gage.” Coulter pulled himself up off the bench and cracked his knuckles for show. “Who should I fight? The woman or the man?”

                Not even really a question.

                “The woman for sure. She’ll make for one hell of a fight.”

                “You sure? The man’s a sniper. He’d be an easy target in close quarters.”                                            

                “Yeah, sure, Boss.” Gage set his beer bottle down. Nope. Had to be the woman. She was the perfect candidate. “But if it’s over too quickly, will it really teach the gangs anything?”

                “You’re right.” Coulter threw off his coat and started for the ring. “Remind me to give myself a raise for hiring you, Gage.”

                “Sure, Boss.” Just like that smug sonuvabitch. Well, eat shit in hell, asshole.

                Coulter strode out into the arena to a mixture of applause and jeers. Not a good sign, but he reveled in it, waving his arms and flipping people off as he walked to the Power Armor standing open, waiting. He climbed up into his suit and Gage helped seal him in and hook the thing up to the power cord. He could sabotage the suit here, but it would be too obvious. If she was going to stand a chance taking this place, she had to show them that she could outsmart, outmaneuver, and then outgun him. She had to beat unbeatable odds.

                “You got me wired up yet, Gage?”

                Impatient sonuva—“Yeah, Boss.”

                “Finally. Now go shut off that damn alarm.”

                “Alright. I’m on it.”

                Gage nodded to Coulter as he left the control room, slamming the heavy metal door behind himself. And, just like that, Gage was all alone with all the door controls, all the intercoms, and the plan that would pull his ass outta the fire for now. Cutting the power altogether during the match would be too obvious just like sabotaging the suit, but he had planted that damn squirtgun in the locker room ages ago, and it was finally damn time for his chickens to come in to roost on that plan. He finally had someone who might just stand a chance at winning this.

                Coulter shittalked a minute before finally shouting the go-ahead. Gage hit the button to unlock the locker room doors and then hit it again to lock the door behind her once she was where he wanted her. He just needed to hold her still for a minute. The guns she had on her were all better than the shit she’d find in that room anyways. Not like she needed the time to stock up.

                Her voice sure didn’t sound the way he expected it to when she called back over the intercom. Sultry—kinda sexy if he was being honest and true. He could hear her merc in the background yammering at her, but she sounded focused. More put-together than he was thinking she’d be. She asked questions. Lots of them. Weighed her options—thought things through lightening quick. That was when he knew he’d chosen right. They needed a thinker in charge. Someone who could talk a big fight and scare people, but was smart enough to leverage that power without stirring shit up _too_ much. Coulter was a big ol’ fat cat, and it was about time Nuka World moved on to bigger and better things.

                “Is this a fucking squirt-gun?”                                                                                                                                  

                Shit. He almost actually laughed at that one. He rushed through a basic explanation, but she interrupted halfway through because she knew how fucking electricity worked, which was a promising sign.

                He heard her sigh over the intercom. “Are you _sure_ about this?”

                Her merc muttered _“no, Lola, I’m not, thanks for asking”_ in the background, and she shushed him. Lola, then. Huh.

                “Sure as shit.” Or, about as sure as he’d ever be. Close enough, in his book. “You just be ready to take him out when he’s vulnerable.” 

                “Consider it done.”

                Damn right.

                “That’s what I like to hear. Alright. It’s time. I’ll open the door.” Coulter looked at him through the window and raised his arms impatiently. “See you on the other side.”

Coulter riled up the croud, pumping his fists into the air like he was half-cocked on their cheering. Well good. Get cocky, dipshit. He waited for the signal, and then opened the door to let her loose.

                It was a damn good fight, he had to give her that. She had this desperation about her—she was going to live, no matter what she had to do. Her merc looked real nervous pacing the room waiting for her. He hadn’t expected being locked out, but he had trailed just far enough behind that Gage had been able to reengage the door in time to keep this fight one-on-one. It would look better to the gangs like this anyways. The steeper the odds, the better her victory would play. Gage didn’t see how the merc was nervous, though. This woman would survive an atomic bomb if one came. Gage had seen fighters of all stripes—he knew a winner when he saw one. Coulter hit her a few times. When Coulter turned around to rally the crowd, she dove into a bumper car, Stim’d, and pulled out the water gun. Good. He came stomping over to her, and then she surprised him by dropping to the ground, rolling closer, and popping back up with the squirt-gun in hand. Smart girl—she aimed for the exposed wires.

                Power to the suit flickered and then died, and she picked her shotgun back up and blasted him. Bits of armor shattered and rained down, but not enough, and power kicked back on before she had finished reloading. This pattern continued. She would run him in circles—being less encumbered by the two-tons of shit Coulter had tacked on to that fucking suit—he would shoot at her, maybe land a shot somewhere non-fatal, and she would wait to get just close enough to short his suit and then pepper him with her shotgun. Coulter got wise to what she was doing pretty fast, but could never _move_ fast enough to stop her. Eventually, Coulter was fighting in a skeleton suit. When she managed to shoot out the visor on the helmet, she had him. Coulter, enraged and irrational, threw the shattered helmet to the ground and she shorted his Power Armor as a distraction. Coulter swiped at her in a rage, and she raised her gun real fast, and fired off one last shot right into his head. She was so close, the barrel of her gun was almost touching his skin. The suit held Coulter up, lifeless, but his head was in a million pieces, painting the windows of the control box. She kicked Coulter over and the thud when he hit the ground shook the whole fucking arena. Bitch had style.

                There was silence for a whole moment, and Gage had _never_ heard a room full of Raiders go quiet, not for nothing. This was exactly the kinda show-stopping shit he’d needed. Finally, RedEye broke the silence, jabbering over the radio.

                “Gage, what the hell just happened?”

                Gage looked up at the radio box where he knew RedEye was sitting, probably smoking through a whole pack of cigarettes. The man _lived_ for this sorta drama. Well, his time to shine, he supposed.

                “You saw it.” He leaned close to the microphone, watching her through the window. She reloaded her shotgun and stuck close to one of the bumpercars for cover, clearly not sure of what was gonna happen next. “We all saw it. Colter’s dead. We’ve got ourselves a new Overboss.”

                He was hoping for that to be that, but Mason and Nisha fired back before he’d even finished his sentence.

                “Hey. We talked about this.” He was sweating bullets. If this didn’t work, they were all toast. There’d be a fucking revolution, whatever peace they’d found would dissolve, and it would end in a bloodbath. Tourists would be picking up chunks of Raider as souvenirs when they passed through a ghost-town. “She survived the Gauntlet. She was smart enough to take my advice, and strong enough to kill Coulter. She’s what we need.”

                Raiders couldn’t be trusted to pay attention for five fucking minutes, let alone keep a bargain that would stop one gang from seizing too much power. He was fighting the odds on this one. There was some discontented murmurs rippling through the crowd. Nothing specific, but some asshat from the Pack howled like a goddamned wolf. Just what he needed.

                “So how about we show some respect for our new leader, eh?”

                He could hear Mags and William mouthing off in the crowd, and the newcomer’s reception wasn’t any better than lukewarm, but no one fired a shot, so he considered his rousing speech a fucking win. By the skin of his teeth, but still a win.

                The woman didn’t moved from cover until people started filing out, and even then, she went right back towards where her merc was pacing a hole in the floor behind a locked door. Gage slammed on the button to release the doors again, and the merc was through in three steps, and pulled her into his arms. Dipshit shouldn’t be showing a sign of weakness like that, but he’d tell her off for that later. After a moment, she and the merc started over towards him, guns still in hand. The merc looked like he had an itchier trigger finger than she did, so Gage kept his hands on the console where the merc could see them.

                Still didn’t open the door yet. He waited for everyone to leave and go back to their days so he could have a word alone with this new Boss, this Lola gal. Better start things out right this time, he figured.


	2. Miss Congeniality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Overboss was two steps ahead and he wasn't sure how the hell he oughta feel about that, being the brains of the operation and all.

It must have taken her a goddamned year or so to make it from the arena to the base at Fizztop. Shoulda been a twenty minute walk. Gage drummed his fingers on the bar and eyed the piles of Coulter’s shit still sitting on the ground by his bed. Clothes, guns, shit he’d collected. All that was left of the bastard aside from the bloody pulp they’d eventually have to scrape up off the arena floor. He’d leave it there for her to sort through. No telling what she’d want. Gage always thought that he was a pretty good judge of character, but he wasn’t too sure about the Overboss. His first debrief with her hadn’t been anything to get too excited about. She’d played it close to the vest. Asked a lot of questions and didn’t volunteer a lot in return. He knew her name, that she was suspicious and smart, and that she could hold her own with a gun. And now he knew that she as late as hell.

                When she finally made it up the lift, she was wearing a Pack scarf and a frown.

                “Welcome home, Boss.” He wedged the tip of his boot knife into the space under his thumbnail, trying real hard to not look as annoyed as he felt. What the _hell_ did she think she was doing? He shouldn’t’ve let her wander here alone. At first he thought it would looked bad for him to escort her like a damn princess, but it woulda been better than letting her mosey around making friends when she didn’t know _shit_ about shit. Thought she would’ve been a least a _little_ smarter than that. Her merc friend still had his hand on his gun, which wouldn’t help matters either. Go looking for a fight with raiders and you’ll find one. Dumbass punk kid, now that he was looking at the fella closer.

                “Make a few stops?”                                                                                                                                  

                “You said I needed to win people over.” She looked around the room for a minute and then raised an eyebrow at her merc. He backed up towards the windows and tugged the brim of his hat down just over his eyes like he was trying to look like some tough-guy hired hand. Nodded once and then he leaned back to watch the door on the other side of the room.

                “I _said_ to meet me here.”                                    

                “Didn’t you also say _I_ was the new Overboss?”

                That fucking mouth of hers would get her in trouble right quick.

                “So you met Mason.” He looked down at the scarf looped around her neck—bright blue and paint-smattered.

                “And Mags and William. And Nisha.” She made a face, but, to be fair, _everyone_ who met Nisha made that face. “Stopped by the market too.”

                “Glad to see you made the grand tour.” Fucking idiot. She better not have made enemies already, because that was the last damn thing they needed. Raiders could smell blood on the water from miles away, and the gang leaders were a colossal pain in the ass at the best of times. This place was a tinder fire waiting to happen, and she was tempting sparks. Her face didn’t give anything away though, which was good. If she’d kept it that cool during her walkthrough, they might not be as bad off as he thought.

Her merc eyed him again. Gage set his knife down and leaned back against the counter, casual as hell. Not gonna be scared by some kid with a rifle, no matter how good a shot he was. When he looked back at the Boss, he realized she flipping through a copy of _Guns and Bullets_ on the table.

                “These digs are yours, now; hope you like the look.” Her eyes snapped up and met his when he said it, like she was surprised. She had these unnerving green eyes—kind he’d never seen before. Clear, bright, and sharp. Looked real honest and innocent, but that wasn’t the damn truth of her. Whole thing threw him a little off his game. “Uhh, Coulter had some peculiar tastes. But the view is something, huh?”

                She nodded, but didn’t take her eyes off him. He felt like he was being dissected, like some small critter on a slab. On second thought, she probably did just fine talking to the gang leaders.

                “Everything you see here is under your control, now that you’re in charge.”            

                She folded her arms over her chest. Had said before that her name was “Lola” after killing Coulter. It suited her. He’d known another Dolores once, but if you called her “Lola,” she’d have put a bullet so far up your ass you’d be chewing on it. Seemed to him like they would get along famously if Dolores hadn’t been torn in two by supermutants.

                “I still don’t get it. Why put me in charge?” She looked genuinely suspicious, bless her little heart. Her merc rolled his eyes behind her and mumbled “why not, everyone _else_ does.” Lola shot him a look. She led raiders before? He held that tidbit aside for now to ask later. For now, they had shit to do.

                “You may have noticed that our former Overboss, Coulter, was a fuckin’ asshole. And that’s me being nice.” He didn’t know how else to say it. Act like a dipshit? Get what’s comin’ to ya. She _had_ to understand that, but she was still watching him. “Ended up being poison for this whole operation. Way I see it, surviving the Gauntlet means you have what it takes. Or at least the potential. For a good while now, we’ve needed someone who can get shit done. Make real progress.”

                She set her hands on her hips and looked him up and down again, weighing what he had said. Her lip twitched up at the corner for a second before settling back down into that carefully neutral expression again.

                “What kind of mess am I walking into here?”

                The kind that could get you fucking rich, if you played your damn cards right.

                He tried his best to explain the gangs, but it was something you had to see. Feel out. She’d already gotten a taste of the three bosses. She shoulda seen it. Everyone wants more than they’re due; everyone’s itching to prove they're hot shit. In the end, she said she could fix it. And not for nothin’, confidence is something she’d need, but she had no choice but to fix it. If she didn’t, it’d be all their asses into the fire.

                They talked until nightfall about the gangs. She sat on the counter sipping a Nuka Cola Cherry, taking notes on a pad of paper she had pulled outta her massive rucksack. Real thorough questions—what does each gang stand for? How are they different? How can she talk to each of them? What matters to each faction? How much sway does each gang leader have? Strengths of each? Weaknesses? Alliances? Known conflicts and “pain points”?

                His mouth was dry from talking by the time she finally snapped her half-burnt little notebook closed. She finished off her cola and hopped down off the counter. Her merc perked up. He’d been sitting in a booth by the lift, still facing the door that led to Gage’s room with his gun in his hands.  

                “Don’t worry.” Lola stretched her arms behind her back in an easy way. “Everybody likes me.”

                Her merc made an audible snorting noise and rolled his eyes.

                Before they tucked in for the night, she grabbed Gage’s hand and shook it. Small hands but a firm handshake. He didn’t know what the hell to do with that.

                “Nice meeting you, Gage.”

                “Sure, Boss.”

                There was something unsettling in the smile she shot him—like she already knew something about him that he didn’t know yet—so he left it at that and closed the door on her and that gangly merc.

                The next morning, she walked out to the front of the parks with him and the merc. A vertibird was waiting a distance away, just far enough where, in the early morning, none of the raider scouts would run into it. The sun had barely crept up over the horizon.

                Seemed like she’d called for the vertibird, on account of the fact that the pilot waved to her and she waved back. How in the hell the boss had managed to bring a vertibird to this godforsaken hole he had no idea, but she sure as hell knew how to make an impression. His list of unanswered questions was growing by the second.

                She grabbed the merc’s scarf and pulled him in close to say something. He frowned. Said something to her. She shrugged. Gage couldn’t hear anything over the vertibird in the background, but it looked like the merc was mouthing off. Still staring at each other, the merc pulled the grimy old cap down off his head and placed it on hers without breaking eye-contact. She let go of his scarf and he climbed into the waiting vertibird. She waved to the pilot and the metal monstrosity carried the merc up and away. The wind from the vertibird’s propellers nearly knocked the grubby hat off her head, but she caught it and held it down flat, eyes trained on the sky until the bird and the merc were out of sight.

                Three’s company anyways.              

                “What the hell’s that all about?” He wasn’t expecting an answer. She looked up at him with those piercing eyes just as the sun came up over the horizon, drenching her in gold light. Picture of a leader if he ever saw one. She started the long walk back to Nukaworld. Her fingers found the brim of the hat absently and tugged it down over her eyes.

                “Nothing.”

                Alright then. Time to get to work.


	3. Miss Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new Overboss was a confusing trip right to hell.

                The more he worked with her, the more he realized that she was a goddamned force. William and Mags mouthing off? She verbally shoves a boot so far up their asses both brother and sister choke. Mason try to knock her jaw off? She spits out the mouthful of blood and brings the butt of her gun down on his head so hard the whole park hears the crack. Nisha testing her? She makes a fucking joke. This Lola, whoever the hell she was and wherever the hell she came from, was untouchable. Gage figured he’d either chosen damn well, or they were in a shitload of trouble.

                What he meant, he supposed, was that she was a different person depending on who she was talking to. She puffed up her chest and straightened her shoulders when hanging around the pack. Talked big. Took no shit. Over at the Black’s, she was sultry. Leaned on tables, puckered her lips, gave these saucy little looks. Planned everything out in terms of caps and gains—which was just what the Operators wanted to hear. With the Disciples, she was quiet but quick with the comebacks. All wit and ruthlessness, which was really the only way to contend with Nisha. Anything else would be too weak or seen as a challenge—she struck just the right chord to maintain control without revealing weakness. He had honestly thought there would have been more of a learning curve (heaven knows Coulter had struck out in his first few talks with the gangs), but she seemed to size people up, create a plan of attack, and put the plan into motion within seconds of meeting someone.

                Seeing that, he couldn’t help but wonder what notes she’d pulled together on _him,_ because her behavior with him didn’t make any damn sense. Lola was guarded for sure—wouldn’t say a word about herself conversationally speaking. Coulter had practically handed Gage his life story right out the gate. Lots of people did—he made himself scarce, opened his ears, and suddenly the whole world was his best gotdamned friend. But Lola played it close. She’d collect up junk and fill his pack with ducttape, but she wouldn’t say why. Only so much duct-tape one human could possibly fucking need, yet here he was with fifteen rolls of the shit in the bottom of his ruck. She’d throw old telephones his way. Hotplates ( _Christ on toast_ she loved those damn hotplates), old fuses, hammers, pliers, any glue she could get her hands on. Piled him up with the shit, hoarded it in her room for a few days, and then had him load it into a vertibird.

                That was the other thing. Every now and again, she’d climb up into a waiting vertibird, give him a nod, and cart all her shit to god-knows-where, only to return a week later, empty-handed but chipper as all get-out. At first, that was a big ol’ red-flag if he’d ever seen one. But she always came back, and she always came back ready to fuck something up and get shit done, which was all he really needed from her.

                The first time she’d come back, they’d stormed Safari Adventure with a pack full of bullets, a couple of grenades, and a half-crazy look in her eyes. She listened to scavenged holotapes while blowing holes in Gatorclaws four times her size. She jumped off a scaffolding twenty feet up in the air, hit the ground and rolled, stim’d, and then carried on killing shit with a vengeance. When she came across the resident wild-man (and Gage’d be damned if he hadn’t thought See-toh was some kinda urban legend) she eyed him with one part pity, two parts caution. The man had broken a gatorclaw’s arm like it was nothing while she was still taking aim. He jumped onto the back of another and yanked on the thing’s horns until they came all the way the fuck off. And then, when she asked him where he was from, he smiled at her and talked about a family of goddamned apes. If Gage wasn’t so busy figuring out how to get outta this without dying, he woulda been a mite more concerned.

                As it was, she all but adopted See-toh once he showed her his family. She let him stay rather than run him out of Nukaworld, and let him hang around while she and Gage did the heavy lifting (said she didn’t want the wild man out getting hurt, which was the _dumbest fucking thing_ ). When night started falling, they headed for the treehouse to bunker down. He boosted her up over the hedge maze by the waist so she could figure out what route to take to get to the treehouse’s lift, and she led the way, gun out. Till then, she’d been chugging along like fighting gatorclaws was her whole life. Pushed right through ‘em. Not like she was the best fighter (again—he could spot that untrained sloppiness in just about everything she did) but her fire more than made up for a lack of technical skill.

                They disabled the lift once they were up and looked for a place to crash. For once, they both agreed that behind the counter on the second floor would be best, so she sat up on the counter while he slept the first shift. He woke up to her leaning over him and jostling his shoulder. Her hair tickled his face. Her eyes were wide and shined in the moonlight and for a second that pretty face caught him in a funny sorta way. He sat up so fast he thought he’d be sick, hauled himself up onto the counter to sit watch, and tried not to glance over as she curled up on her side below on the sleepingbag. Long wait for morning, but at least they were under cover when it rained some time before dawn.

                Once they figured out how to stop the machine that was _literally creating goddamn gaterclaws for shit’s sake,_ she dusted her hands on her jeans and looked up at the flagpole. It was late afternoon by then—they’d spent a hell of a long time figuring out just how to unfuck the place.

                “Picked a gang for the Safari yet, Boss?”

                “Well.” She bit her lip. “The Pack, of course. But I’ll make them wait for it. Everyone gets assignments at the same time, to prevent favoritism.”

                Made sense. Seemed only fair that the animals get the zoo. The gangs would be champing at the bit for new territory assignments, but it would make the whole process run smoother if she held out until everyone could get nice and distracted by new space rather than who got what. There weren’t enough grounds for each raider outfit to get two—at least one group would get shafted, and she was going to have to play that real careful to keep control. Besides, she couldn’t favor the pack right out the gate. Nisha would lynch her in a second if she thought her Disciples weren’t the favorite.

 

                Later that night, he found himself sitting across from her in her suite at Fizztop. The walk back had been the worst—she’d made him cart over what musta been a full ton of random shit she’d collected. Hadn’t said a word about _why_ she needed eight hotplates or a fistful of pencils, but he couldn’t argue with results. If hoarding made her happy and making her happy got shit done, then he’d drag the whole park around in his ruck. He sipped at a Nuka Cola and part of him wished he’d never have to taste the syrupy shit ever again. She asked him what he thought about her plan. What he thought about the gangs.

She was a damn good listener. No one had ever listened to him just talk. He usually had to be a hell of a lot craftier to get people to actually listen to the words he was saying. But she sat for hours prodding him on, and she would talk back to his stories. _No way! You’re kidding me. What an idiot!_ She remembered things he’d said ages ago. Jokes he’d cracked walking around Nukaworld.  

                He leaned himself back on the vinyl seat. It had slashmarks through it where some smartass way back had taken a knife and cut up the back of the seat. He could feel one of the springs under his ass, and it was barely even attached to the wobbly table anymore. He set down his cola and popped a bite of cotton candy into his mouth. That was when he said it. Not even totally sure _why_ he said it.

                How he used to manipulate Coulter. How she was better than that.

                She quirked a grin that started at one corner of her mouth and slanted just enough to make him a feel a little warm under the collar.

                “You gonna whisper in my ear, Gage?” She meant it as a joke, but a cool chill tripped up his spine.


	4. Miss Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was always a little too close for comfort. Or a little too far. It was getting harder and harder to tell which.

                She brought all the scrap from the Safari back to Christ-only-knows where a few days after sacking the place. The gangs had her constant attention—everybody needs something—but no matter how many times Mason hinted, Mags whined, or Nisha threatened, she didn’t give on who was gonna get what. Keep ‘em waiting. The gangs didn’t like it, but she wasn’t on the verge of an inter-gang war, so he considered that a win. Once she’d checked in with all the leaders and made it clear why she was waiting on assignments, the heads of each gang seemed to reconcile themselves with waiting, and she took off in that waiting vertibird at the ass-crack of dawn.

                She came back just shy of a week later with some materials for the Nukaworld power armor Coulter had been playing with, and a plan for the rest of the territories. She wanted to finish clearing them ASAP to keep the gangs from rioting. They were quiet now, and they seemed to follow her logic, but all it ever takes is one dumbass to catch the wrong person’s ear and you’ve got a full-blown turf war on your hands. She didn’t want that, he didn’t want that, and deep down the gang leaders didn’t want that, because who fucking knows who’d come out on top if all three gangs up and turned hostile on each other. He was stuffing supplies into his pack when she climbed onto the lift in full gear and called for him to follow.

               

                She hit Kiddie Kingdom first because she wanted to get it out of the way, saying it gave her the “heebie-jeebies,” whatever the fuck those were. Place creeped him the hell out; that was _his_ stance. Some maniac ghoul sent wave after wave of ferals after them to the point that Lola was shaking head-to-toe and shot anything that moved, including most of the rides at one point or another. She just plain wasn’t the same after a ghoul lurched out at her and grabbed her by the hair in the house of mirrors. It didn’t let go even after Gage killed it, so he had to help her pull its fingers out of the bun high up on the back of her head. He had never seen her on the verge of tears before, but there they were. Gage pretended he didn’t notice and took point on the way out (almost walking right into a bouquet of grenades for his trouble).

                She took pity on the damn fool magician, though. Cornered him on the rooftop with her gun up and her finger on the trigger. Coulda blown him to smithereens in half a second, without batting those long dark lashes, but she heard him out while he babbled on and on about some sob story—survivors turning to ghouls, his girlfriend, whatever he was on about, Gage was only half-paying attention. Instead, he kept his gun up in case she gave the word, and watched her face. The hard set of her lips softened into a slight frown as she listened. Gage had never pegged her as a softie, but when the ghoul (Oswald, he called himself) finished, she dropped her gun entirely and reached into her pocket. She pulled out a holotape.

                “I found this a while back.” She held it up so he could see before popping it into her Pipboy. He remembered coming across the dead ghoul woman in the town outside the park. For once, he was glad she had the compulsive need to grab everything she found. The woman’s voice played back through the speaker, low and broken. Oswald’s shoulders dropped and he hung his head.

                “She’s…dead?”

                Maybe it was just the way the Boss looked at the old ghoul, but Gage felt right awful for the guy just then.

                Lola stepped forward very slowly until she was within reach. Oswald wasn’t just a ghoul, he was glowing, but she didn’t seem to care that she was probably bathing in radiation. The Pipboy on her arm ticked a frantic warning. Neon green reflected off her rain-slicked skin. She popped the tape out of her Pipboy and set it in Oswald’s hand. She covered his hand with hers when he accepted.

                Then, despite all the “you’ll never take me alive, murderers” and threats from earlier, he told her that he would take the rest of the ferals (what few were left) and leave the park for a cure. She didn’t try to talk him out of it, but accepted the hat and his sword, which he insisted he wouldn’t need anymore. In a flash, he was gone. When she looked down from the roof of the castle, however, they saw Oswald leading couple of ferals over the bridge and out. She rearranged some things in her bag and popped some rad-away before leaving, to give Oswald time to get away. Lola didn’t say much about the whole weird thing, but she did tuck Oswald’s hat into her bag, and slung the sword over her shoulders, secured with a length of spare rope. She wore something like a frown for all of a minute before shaking her head and dragging him back out of the park to move on.

                When she’d said she wanted to clear the parks, she had _meant_ it.

                Dry rock gulch was crawling with critters, but that didn’t seem to slow her. Better critters than ghouls after the morning _they’d_ had. They were neck-deep in all sort of disgusting creepy crawlies before he knew it, but she was paying more attention to the old protectron running the show. He talked her through his whole spiel and gave the boss a stupid costume (so of course she swapped out her shitty cap for a fucking cowboy hat). She also insisted on talking in that godawful accent, and if she wasn’t the best damn overboss a man could ask for, he mighta choked her. If ghouls had freaked her out, whatever the fuck those wriggly worm-things were set _his_ teeth on edge. That park was pretty uneventful, but he spent more than half their time there shooting at the goddamned dirt. They cleared most of the place from a post high-up on the busted coaster (she insisted on climbing it), and then killed the big-ass brood mother down in the bowels of the coaster. After taking turns washing up in an employee bathroom (thank god she carried soap so he could scrub that slime and shit off his hands) they camped the rest of the night in one of the barns, protected by a rusty old bot. She snuggled herself into her sleepingbag with a blissful smile, grinning like a damned idiot every time the protectron said “howdy partner!”

                They set out for the Galactic Zone the second the sun was up. It presented more of a challenge, that was for damn sure. There were robots everywhere—just fucking everywhere. They cleared a whole stretch of streets, ducked into a theatre to mop up the massive security bot in there, and by the time they made it back out, it was like they’d never swept the place. He grabbed her around the waist and jerked her back against his chest right as a spray of bullets pinged up the street. Tucked into a side alley, they had a minute to regroup, but not much more. She fell back against him and for a second, he forgot to let go. Adrenaline. With the blood pumping that fast, it was like his senses were all cranked up to eleven. Christ her hair smelled good. Like gunpowder and soap. Her waist was squishy and soft—she felt malleable against his body. She reloaded her gauss rifle and leaned forward, and that round ass was right up against him. If there weren’t at least three different kinds of kill-bot just around the corner, he’d dig his fingers into her hips and bend her over here. Knowing the Boss, hell, maybe that’d be her style.

                He swallowed that thought as best as he could and leaned over her hunched form to shoot over her and catch the bots she missed. Best make his damn self useful.

                It was the lasers that caused real problems. A lot of the leftover security Mister Handys had flamethrowers or rotating saws, but they’d have to be in close for that to be an issue, so they kept their distance and pinged them from afar as best they could. Gunshot wounds were bad, but bullets were small, and they moved around enough where there weren’t too many bullet wounds, and none anywhere serious. The lasers that some of those fuckers had, though? Cut swathes through cover, ripped through armor, cauterized wounds for just long enough that it was a surprise when the huge gashes ripped back open. The Boss’ thigh was bleeding bad from a laser burn, but neither of them could totally remember when she’d been hit. She tied a scrap of t-shirt she’d liberated from a mannequin in the gift shop around her leg and kept moving.

                When they finally worked their way through enough of the park, she figured out how to shut the fuckers down. She had collected up a bunch of these clunky-looking mechanical things that some asshole trader had scattered all over the damn park. She had a few already, but found more as they dug through whatever salvage she could get her hands on between being shot at and having to shoot things. Some old holotape had some instructions, so she scrambled around this big old supercomputer while Gage kept the bots off their backs. After rearranging the mechanical bits (she called them “cores,” whatever the fuck that meant), an eyebot that had been zapping at him shut down and crashed to the ground with a clank.

                He whipped around and she was standing there at the terminal, watching with eyes wide. For a split second, she didn’t move. When he finally dropped his gun, she let out a whoop and punched the air.

                “HA! Take THAT Valentine!”

                He wanted to ask what the hell she was hollering about now, but she went right from triumphant to work-mode. She all but grabbed him by the ear to forage for the rest of the cores and whatever other scrap she could manage. Scavenging was easier without constant laser-fire, and they had piles of crap stacked up to grab on their way out. They emptied out the easy stuff first—smaller rides, streets, the cafes. After that, they swung by some of the bigger attractions. She stopped dead in the foyer of the Vault-Tech ride, staring at the huge display.

                “Coming?” He was already halfway down the hall. Time to get this shit done and over with. She shook her head hard and backed her way out the door. It wouldn’t budge at first, but she slammed on the bar with her hand until it opened. When he followed, he found her outside with her hands on her knees, doubled over and breathing hard.

                “You okay?”

                She didn’t look up when he spoke.

                He leaned against the railing to wait. Took her a minute, but she was up, moving, and walking away so fast he thought she might be running.

                Gage tried to ask what was wrong, but she just shook her head and said “nothing useful there.” Like hell—he’d spotted at least four or five things she probably would have grabbed in the front room alone, but who was he to argue with the Boss? Besides, less shit to carry wasn’t a problem in his book.

                By then, it was getting dark. They’d made good time and hit pretty much everywhere but the VaultTech ride. Nuka-Galaxy took some time to work through but once they had followed the coaster all the way back out to the front, she had a full pack and a better mood. Even squealed when she spotted the Nuka Girl mannequin and realized that the mannequin’s suit was just her size. Mostly. A little on the snug side, she predicted, but stretchy enough where she could make it work. She tucked it into her bag with a smile like she knew something he didn’t. Gage rubbed the back of his neck.

                “We should hunker down here tonight,” she said, looking at her Pipboy. The light flickered, faintly purple on her face. “It’s late and I’m tired.”

                Without waiting for him to respond, she dropped down into one of the rocket-ship seats laying at an angle across the tracks. It was tilted at a weird slant, but the seats looked comfy enough where he didn’t think he’d have a problem falling asleep in it when they switched out for watch. He nodded and sat down on the track beside her. He sure as hell wasn’t gonna argue with _not_ stumbling around in the dark.

                Lola’s eyes closed almost immediately and she struggled to pull her coat off so she could drape it over herself like a blanket. When she shifted, he noticed the red splotch high up on the thigh of her jeans, soaking right through her makeshift bandage. That was right. She’d been hit. More than once, but the laser burn had been a bad one.

                “Hey, Boss.”

                “Hmm?” Now that he got a good look at her, she looked real pale.

                “You okay?”

                “Been better.”

                “How’s the leg?”

                She shrugged. Not super reassuring. When she kept moving she seemed fine, but now that she was sitting still, she was probably feeling it again. And the running around couldn’t have helped. He reached over and pushed her makeshift blanket out of the way. She winced just a little bit when his hand brushed her leg. He tried to untie the fabric she’d been using as a bandage, but she’d secured it tight. He had to slice through it with his knife, and when he finally cut through it, he had to peel it back. It was good and stuck to the wound.

                “ _Ow,_ asshole!” She tried to push his hand away, but he kept his grip as he took a look at the damage.

                “Wouldn’t hurt if you’d take care of it, Boss.”

                “I’ll fix it later.”

                “If you don’t patch up now, you’ll bleed out before _later.”_ He couldn’t see bone, but she was a mess. All dried blood and tender skin. Felt hot to the touch, too, and Gage had learned from experience that hot meant infection. She tugged the coat up over her head. Some childish shit, that was. Fuckin’ hell. He pressed his thumb against the bottom lip of the gash to separate it from some of the burnt bits where the laser had singed the skin. She nearly jumped out of her skin.

                “Gage what the hell?” She sucked in a breath through her teeth.

                “Clean yourself the fuck up.” He wiped his hands on his jeans. “You’re gettin’ blood everywhere.”

                She glowered but groped around for her bag. Damn right she did. He kicked it closer to her, but her fingers shook when she finally had the medkit in hand. She barely managed to get the roll of gauze out before he snatched the kit out of her damn hands.

                “Sit still, Boss.”

                She made a quiet noise in the back of her throat, but her eyes were a little glazed, and she sat up straight without arguing. He started to clean her up, but there was only so much he could do with her jeans in the way. No good angle. Heat pooled in his gut as the realization crept up on him. One solution for that. His throat was dry.

                “Boss?”

                Her head was tilted back, revealing the long line of her throat, exposed. She leaned back on her elbows. “Hmm?”

                “Need to get these jeans off.” _Jesus._ “Can’t get at the cut.”

                “Think it’s a little more than a ‘cut,” Gage.” Her fingers worked at the silver buckle of her cracked leather belt. She hooked her thumbs into the waist of her pants. He swallowed hard but couldn’t look away as she shifted and slid the fabric down to about her knees. He’d never seen the Boss like this before. Round in the hips. Couple of scars, but not many this high up (‘cept for that gash arced over the top of her thigh). Smooth skin. Probably soft to touch. _Shit_ it was hard to focus. Almost didn’t want to touch her skin with his grubby, calloused hands, but his little spitfire of a Boss was too passive for him to pretend she’d be alright if he didn’t. He pressed down on either side of the gash and fresh blood trickled down the inside of her thigh. He grabbed what was left of the shirt she’d cut up and mopped her up as best as he could. She groaned.

                “Gage—”

                “I know it hurts.”

                “Your bedside manner is awful.”

                He looked up and that lopsided grin was back, pulling at the corner of her lips. Fucking smartass.  

                He gave himself a clean workspace and then dug through her bag for alcohol. She usually kept some on hand—straight vodka—for this exact purpose. He dabbed at her leg again and she grit her teeth as he twisted the cap off the bottle. Didn’t warn her—that would make it worse. He splashed her with the vodka quick, and she nearly kicked his head off his shoulders. Her knee came up hard into his chin, knocking his head back. Gage rubbed his jaw as she fought to breathe through her nose. Tears beaded up at the corners of her eyes and slid down her cheeks, bright and glittering in the emergency lights overhead.

                “Fucking—holy— _Gage.”_

                He knew she said it because she was hurting, but when he looked at her, all stretched out with her pants around her knees, head tipped back as she hissed his name, it looked like a whole something else.

                Shit.

                Not like he hadn’t thought about her like that before. She’d do something off the cuff—sass someone, pull off an impressive shot, give him hell over something—and he’d feel a ripple under his skin. A nagging thought. A daydream of her legs wrapped around his waist that bubbled to the surface every now and again. He didn’t blame himself for it—there was something real sexy about the Boss, and so long as he didn’t fuck up the good thing they had going by talking about it, they’d be fine. But it was real hard _not_ to fuck up the good thing they had going, all things considered. If he brought it up, would she be mad? Would she want him too? If they just fucked and got it out of the way, might be easier to focus. He didn’t want anything that might involve heart-to-hearts or anything like that. At least, maybe not. He didn’t think. Or maybe he did. All the blood in his body was rushing away from his brain; he couldn’t figure out exactly _what_ it was he wanted.

                What was he thinking? She was half delirious, in pain, and bleeding again. Goddamnit.

                He sopped up more blood, wrapped her leg in a whole role of gauze, jabbed her with a stimpack, and slid her pants back up over her hips. Clenched his teeth as his knuckles skimmed her hips. Tucked her back in, but she was already halfway to sleep. She winced when he maneuvered her legs back into the little rocket she’d nested into, but after a minute of squirming, she finally settled in with a sigh.

                “Thanks, Gage.” She slurred the two words together, but hearing his name out of her mouth sent a small something zinging down to his core. She was smiling—not a cocky half-smile like usual, a full one. Warm. Sweet. The thought popped into his head without him wanting it there, but he could kiss that mouth. And maybe she would keep on smiling and kiss him back. He shifted and muttered “no problem, Boss.”

                He woke up next morning sore and stiff from sitting up against the rocket where she’d slept. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but there wasn’t any waking her for watch after all that, and they were both still alive, so he didn’t feel awful about it. He stretched and made the conscious decision to not think about any of the shit he’d thought last night. In fact, best if he forgot about _all_ of last night. She made it hard to do that. Wasn’t looking so good when he jostled her awake and could barely walk. Great. Trying real hard not to think about it, he carried her out of there on his back with her head on his shoulder and his hands hooked under her thighs. Her breath against his throat felt so good it hurt.

                He thanked gods he didn’t even fucking believe in that the walk was so short.


	5. Miss Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gage had a problem that started and ended with a certain red-headed Overboss.

There was something damn sexy about her lips when she talked, and she talked a _lot_ when she drank, he noticed. When she was thinking, she’d bite the corner of her bottom lip just a little bit, kinda like one of those old spank mags he’d seen that kid from the Pack hoard. He could picture her in a spank mag. Her bottom lip was fuller than the top, plump. The kind of lip that invites biting, kisses, and eh, plenty of other stuff too. Ah shit. He was probably drunk just about now.

                They’d given her some time to bounce back after the Galactic Zone, and he’d sent some over-eager newbies to run back and collect all her shit. True to their word, the five of them had collected up all the scrap left inside the Nuka-Galaxy ride and the mounds of junk they’d stacked up by the entrance. As well as a couple of things they’d picked up along the way, taking the hint that she liked salvage. Kissups, all of ‘em, but whatever worked. He spent the whole day with her, picking through her hoard of crap. Only when the sun had set had she cracked into some of the hard shit behind the counter. Probably wasn’t good for her given the blood loss, and he usually didn’t hold with sloppy shit like getting drunk on the job, but it was hard to say no to the Boss.

                She kicked her boots up on the table. A cigarette trailed silver smoke in her left hand. She hadn’t smoked much of the damn thing, but hell, this was her shitshow now and if she was gonna waste cigarettes, far be it from him to stop her. She looked out over Nukaworld as she sipped vodka from the bottle. That was kinda sexy too. If he kissed her, the alcohol on her tongue would bite back—sharp and bitter.

                He leaned back in his seat and followed her gaze out to the pond, where that poor dumb sonuvabitch Operator was still sifting through sludge.

                “Who _is_ that guy?”                                                                                                                                                         

                “Him? Think his name’s Crank or something stupid like that.”

                “Says the man who goes by ‘Gage.’” She took another swig of vodka and the neon sign leaked bright red across her face and those damn lips. “I’ve been watching him since I first got here. What in the hell is he looking for?”

                “Beats me. Dumbass has been searching that pool for god only knows what for as long as I remember.” There was a bandanna tied around her throat. Red one. She’d been wearing it around her face the other day when they’d finished clearing out Kiddie Kingdom. Said she didn’t want to breathe in rads, and he didn’t have the heart to tell her that a little strip of cloth like that just ain’t gonna help. Who’s he kiddin’, of _course_ he told her. She’d just ignored him was all, and kept on doing what she was doing. Like usual. He hadn’t known this new overboss long, but she sure as shit had a particular way of doing things.

                After another moment of silence, her head tipped back and she grinned.

                “When I get the power turned back on, we’re riding _all_ the rides that still work. You hear me, Porter Gage?”

                The sound of his full name on her lips made it hard to sit still. He swallowed hard and nodded “all of ‘em.”

                When he leaned forward again, his head swam for a minute. How long had they been sitting there drinkin’ and shooting the shit? He was _definitely_ a little drunk. She thumbed the hat that crazy ghoul had given her before setting it on her head and tipping it forward just a bit, watching herself in the glass of the window. He wouldn’t have to think hard to picture her in nothing _but_ that hat. Maybe just the hat and the bandanna. Wouldn’t be hard to imagine pulling her in by her bandana and…In fact, that thought popped into his head all on its own in such detail he coughed and had to take another slug of whiskey to mask the sound of it. Shit. She set the hat back on the table after a second and leveled a look at him, eyebrow raised. Hell and damnation, it was _not_ like him to get all worked up over a goddamned hat. Not this bad, at least. Her eyes looked right through him and for a second he was worried she could read his mind.

                But he’d be damned she was _beautiful._

                “Hey, can I have your ear for a second?”

                “Sure, Gage. What’s up?”

                “I uhh.” Ahhhh shit this was already a mess. He’d been meaning to say it anyways—thought that if you really respected someone, you oughta let them know it. Why _not_ now? But he couldn’t seem to wrangle the right damn words. “I just wanted to say this. You know, the two of us working together like this, well, it’s been a damn good time.”

                Close enough.

                Then she smiled, all red lips and shit, he couldn’t just leave it at that. That was a piss-poor excuse for what he _wanted_ to say. Piss poor. And if they got blown up tomorrow, he wouldn’t want her having the wrong idea about how he felt. Wasn’t one for all this emotional shit, but there came a time when you just had to be straight with someone. He stood up to pace. Couldn’t think if he was just sitting around.

                “I left Nuka-World with you, hoping you'd be the Overboss the gangs needed. Seems like I didn't need to worry in the least. No question you know how to take care of yourself, which is more than I can say for most. But damn if you don't have fun doing it.” Good. Say something nice. Hell, he hated this kinda shit. He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck and when he turned around, she was standing right there behind him, leaning up against the booth where they’d been sitting. The smile on her face threw him for a loop and he turned back around to light up his cigarette. “And more than that, I know you've got my back. I can trust you. I can't say that about anybody else.”

                “You’re damn right I’ve got your back.” She set her own cigarette down in the ash tray on the table and crossed her arms over her chest. It was dark and the only lights were the couple of candles she’d set up on the bar, one over by her bed, and the cigarette in his hand. In the gathering dark, he could only really see the flash of her eyes and the shape of her.

                “You know, I made some bad calls when I was younger.” And suddenly he was babbling about Connor and his lot. Jesus, what was it about the boss that made him like this? He couldn’t stop himself from giving her every gory detail, even when she smirked and rolled her eyes, even when she looked at him with real gen-u-ine pity that made his gut churn like he was gunna throw up. She listened to every word. By the end he was just rambling, but she nodded along and finally, he found what he was looking to say in the first place.

                “You though? You’re the real deal. I finally found somebody worth fightin' with. Some _thing_ worth fighting for.” He couldn’t define the look on her face when he finally made eye contact. “I didn’t mean to make it weird or nothin’. I’m just sayin’. This is a real good thing we’ve got going here.”

                She waited a long minute before saying anything. Then, outta nowhere, she grabbed one of the metal bars on his armor and pulled his face down to kiss him right on the cheek. Her lips were warm and he felt her breath on his face when she chuckled softly through her nose. She was so close that he could smell her cigarettes and even pinpoint which vodka it was she’d been drinking. The top-shelf shit Coulter had stashed behind all the glasses under the bar. The blue-label one. Her hair still smelled like gunpowder and dust. She was warm—a hot little fire burning too close to him. If he turned his face just a bit, he’d be able to kiss her right on the lips. How would she even react to that? She’d probably either hit him or jump him, knowing her. Maybe both. Probably both, and in that order. It would be real fuckin’ nice to find out. His hands started to come up around her waist when she dropped back down and smiled ear-to-ear. _Shit._

                “Never thought I'd say this to a Raider, but you're damn good company.” She said it and smiled so warm. “I'm lucky to have you at my back, Gage.”

                What in the hell was he supposed to say to _that_.                                                                                             

                “That…means a lot, boss. Really does.” He could feel the shape of her lips on his cheek like she was still there. What in the hell did she mean by kissing him anyways? What the hell did she mean by stopping?

                While he was standing there slack-jawed, she went over and disabled the lift that let out by the lake like she did each night. Didn’t trust those sonuvabitch raiders, and he respected the hell out of her for thinking of that. She thought of everything. With him sleeping in the room before hers, and the lift disabled, she was pretty much safe from anyone who’d think of fucking with her. Or anyone who would stumble by and interrupt. They were good and alone up here, and he’d never noticed it before. The idea tasted good on the back of his tongue. She walked back and took another swig of vodka—she was drinking the stuff like it was water—and stretched. Without her jacket and armor, she was a soft little thing. On the bustier side, with round hips (boy could he remember those hips in _vivid_ detail). Her undershirt skimmed her stomach and he was thinking about how easy it would be to take two steps, plant his hands on that strip of bare skin, and slip that tank top off over her head. If he kissed her then, would she bite him? Seemed like the type. Like she’d like it rough and hard—fierce. And if she was a biter, she was probably a scratcher too. She had those nice long nails…

                He’d puffed his cigarette down to the filter.

                “Thanks for sharing that with me, Gage.” She finally twisted the cap back onto the vodka and moved like she was headed for bed. She laid out her jacket, hat, and bandanna on the bookshelves lining the stage where Coulter had put the bed. She kicked off her boots next so that she was down to her jeans and her undershirt. Skimpy little thing. Thin fabric. In the right light, it’d probably be see-through. Her jeans were a little big and sagged on her hips when she set her belt down beside her jacket. He jammed his hands into his pockets.

                “Hey,” she called back over her shoulder. “You ready to tuck in for the night?”              

                Was that an invitation? He should just fucking ask. No way to know unless he fucking asked. But there was no way she was thinking the same way he was. No way. When he looked over, she was sitting on the edge of her bed, head cocked to the side.

                “Thinking about something?”

                “No, Boss. Nothin’.” He reached back out for his cigarette, only to realize that he had already put it out. He licked his lips. They were suddenly real dry.

                “You sure? Looks like you’re thinking about something.”

                He crossed the room and leaned himself against one of the bookshelves across from her, waiting. Wasn’t sure if he was waiting for an invitation or a warning. She crossed her legs and leaned back on her hands.

                For a minute, they just looked at each other while he waited for a sign. A signal. Hell, anything. She watched him like she always did but didn’t say anything, and it took him an embarrassingly long time to figure out that she was waiting for him to say something. He thought he might choke on his tongue if he tried to use it.

                Finally, she said “you sure there’s nothing on your mind?”

                She sounded worried, which was not the direction he was hoping this would take. What in the hell was he doing, so close to her bed? Yammering on about feelings and thinking about…this was the _Overboss_.

                “Nothing, Boss. Just tired, s’all.”

                “Me too.” She smiled again, loaded the pistol she kept on the dresser (just in case), and finally flopped backwards onto her bed. “Goodnight, then! See you in the morning.”

                There was his answer.

                He mumbled “see you in the morning” and stumbled off to his room behind closed doors where he could catch his breath.

 

                In the morning, she asked him how he was feeling over a breakfast of mutfruit and scrounged-up purified water. Kinda their routine at the point. He’d almost forgotten how close he’d come to making an ass out of himself until she was staring at him in between bites. Of course _she_ hadn’t forgotten, just his damn luck. The Boss never knew when to let shit go.

                He leaned back on the couch across from her, real casual. He had barely slept. Not matter what he did, he couldn’t chase her outta his brain for more than maybe five minutes. She set the bottle down and looked him over again like she could see the truth through his skin.

                “How are we doing, Gage?”                                                                                            
                “Whaddya mean?”

                “You and me. Just wanted to make sure we’re alright.”

                “You…did ya hear a word I said last night, Boss?” He folded his arms over his chest. There was already heat under his skin. “I don’t like talking about feelings and shit, but I just might follow you off the ends of the earth if you asked. That work for ya?”

                She beamed and nodded. “Just needed to make sure, Gage.”

                He nodded but, at that moment, he’d rather not meet her eyes.


	6. Miss Victory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She had some hard choices and friends in weird places.

Bottling Factory. Last territory before she could start handing out land assignments. She was jumpy as hell in the tunnels, but jumpy was always better than dead. She could spare the bullets. They were making record time until they made it outside and were swamped by angry, glowing Nukalurks.

                Her killshot on the Nukalurk queen was right up under the chin (chin? Did the damn thing even have a chin? Looked kinda like a chin to him). They’d been running circles around it for what must have been an hour, sneaking pot shots but never getting up close enough to finish it. Finally, she was standing under the thing—all five-feet and five inches of her, under a glowing, jacked-up Mirelurk the size of a goddamned building—and when it curled up like it was gonna bring it’s claws down on her head, she pulled the trigger on her rifle. Damn impressive shot; he was just about shitting bricks twenty feet away. The queen collapsed on top of her, burying her.

                It was a frantic sprint over, but he could hear her shouting for help. Lucky little shit she was—the bulk of the Queen’s body had mostly missed her when she dove out of the way, and only her left leg was stuck under the massive shell. Up close, the queen smelled like sticky soda and death. It would take him a week and a half to scrub the scent of rotting fish off his skin. He still didn’t hesitate to plant his boot up on the shell, hug her around the waist, and yank like hell until the broken leg popped free. She gasped at the pain but didn’t say a word about it. They toppled back onto the asphalt and, after a moment of stunned silence, she rolled off him and laughed like mad.  

                “Holy _shit_ Mac’s gonna be pissed.”

                Couldn’t parse that one, but it didn’t matter so long as they were both mostly in one piece. They stimmed her leg and took a breather to regroup. He could hear a Mirelurk king up on the roof but if it hadn’t spotted them yet, he was content to leave it be for now. From what he could feel, it was a fracture partway down her shin that kept her grounded. At least she’d turned her leg to the side at the last minute, so her knee and ankle weren’t broken too. They wrapped her shin in a bunch of t-shirts she’d ripped off mannequins and pressed on with her leaning heavily against his side. He’d have made a snide comment, but he could still feel the adrenaline under his skin and his heart pounding in his chest long after he’d made sure she was alright.

                Of course the rest of the Mirelurks had to be up three damn flights of stairs. He left her sitting on the railing as he went ahead and cleared out the worst of it so she could hobble after. Night was already falling. It took them the whole day to clear the place out, but it was the last of the territories. They found an office up on the roof and hunkered down.

                The boss looked like hell and they both smelled like shit. She nursed her leg while he spread out the sleeping bag. Didn’t say anything till he cracked into the rations.

                “Five parks, not counting Nukatown.”

                Five parks down. Once they pacified the gangs, they could hit the power plant, figure that shit out, and get Nukaworld back up and running without the tiny, ineffective backup generators. They’d done damn good.    

                “Yeah, Boss.”

                “Kiddie Kingdom, Safari Adventure, Dry Rock Gulch, The Galactic Zone, and the Bottling Plant.” She counted them off on her fingers.

                “Sounds right.”

                She accepted the can of Cram when he passed it her way, but poked it with the spoon rather than eat. He grabbed the tin back and stuffed another spoonful into his mouth.

                She dragged her fingers through her hair and leaned her head back against the desk behind her. “Five parks, three gangs.”

                He set dinner down on the floor beside him and scratched at the skin just under where the patch chaffed at his cheek.

                “You could give the Disciples Nukatown. Practically own it anyways.”

                “We need neutral trade grounds. My base of operations and the homes of the gang leaders should not be on gang turf or we risk alienating people. We need to keep all the power centralized on neutral territory.”

                He hadn’t even noticed the sun setting around them until her face was hazy in the dark. He felt around to make sure his gun was still by his side. Safety off.

                “Gage, we’ve gotta decide who gets what.”

                “ _We_ , Boss?” He could hear her shrug, her shoulders swishing against the covers of the sleeping bag.

                “You’re the one who knows them, remember?” She made a noise like all the air was escaping her lungs. “You like working behind the scenes.”

                Well, she wasn’t wrong. But she was also probably coming to the same conclusion he had ages ago. He drummed his fingers against the barrel of his shotgun.

“Who you willing to lose?”

                She hummed under her breath. “Who would be the easiest to lose?”

                Gage groped around in the dark for the pack he had left leaning against the wall. It took him another minute to locate his smokes and the lighter crammed into one of the side-pockets. He took the cigarette between his teeth and the tiny bead of light from the lighter threw her face into sharp relief beside him. Fire danced in the glassy reflection of her eyes. He snapped the lighter shut and puffed.

                “Operators, easy.” It was easier to say in the dark, when he couldn’t see her face. “Mags and William have been short-handed after you and your merc pal wiped out half their initiates in the Gauntlet.”

                “They haven’t taken on new people?”

                “Mags is picky.”

                He heard her roll over in the sleeping bag.

                “Besides, Boss. You don’t want to fight the Disciples. Nisha and her crew—they ain’t afraid of death. They’ll take the whole park down with ‘em.”

                “The Pack have numbers on them. With the Pack and the Operators—”

                “Mason’s a damn fool. He’d see opportunity in the chaos and try to take over.” The smoke cleared Gage’s head. “He’d go gunning for Mags and William in a second—there’s bad blood there. But he’d think twice about fucking with Nisha.”

                “Of them all, she’s got the most sense.”                                   

                “That makes her the most dangerous.” The moon was big and bright against the sky, but they were still cast in inky black here in the little office. Made it real easy to keep watch. Something scuttled around in the dark off in the distance, but Gage wouldn’t go picking fights if he didn’t have to. “Nisha and the Pack balance out—Nisha doesn’t have the numbers Mason does, and Mason doesn’t have the bloodlust Nisha does.”

                “I’ll make Mags an offer anyways.”

                “Sure thing, but don’t expect her to take it.”

                “This is going to get ugly, isn’t it?”

                “Absolutely will, Boss.”                               

                She stopped talking after that and must have fallen asleep at some point because she was out cold when he woke her up for watch. It was still dark, but his eyes were better adjusted and he could make out her face when she sat up, hair wild around her face. She made a small noise somewhere between a squeak and a groan, a sleepy sound that was just about as far removed from their cold-blooded conversation earlier that night as could be. He could smell her hair on the fabric of the sleepingbag, sweet despite the stench of Nukalurk that covered them. Warmth spread from his gut out to his fingertips when she propped herself up beside him for watch.  

                She’d come from somewhere, that was for sure. And wherever she came from, she must have stirred up some shit there, because that seemed to be her thing wherever she went. But, not for the first time, he wondered about what he didn’t know. There was more to her than he was seeing; he knew it in his bones. The sleepy, sweet woman who asked him where they stood and kissed his cheek couldn’t be completely reconciled with the unrelenting badass who led Nukaworld.

                The walk home the next morning was long, hot, and miserable. She didn’t want him to carry her, but leaned on him and walked with a limp. His back was killing him—he had almost a whole foot on the Boss and had to slump to meet her height. They hobbled their way back to Nukatown and slipped in through the back entrance to avoid running into anyone. Probably wouldn’t be great for the gangs to see the boss with a busted leg. Had enough problems to deal with as-is.

                He got her up into Fizztop fine and helped her unwrap the mess of cloth they’d tied around it as a makeshift cast. He half-carried her back to his room so she could take a bath, and then tried real hard not to think about her in the tub behind the flimsiest damned door. He took the time to clean up in the sink and change his clothes. Might as well burn the ones he’d been wearing—there’d be no getting rid of the reek. Tossed her old clothes too. It wasn’t like she was short on spares with all the outfits she’d ripped off mannequins and brought back with her scrap.

                After a long damn time, he knocked on the door and, sheepishly, she called back that she needed help. He squeezed into the tiny bathroom and saw her halfway into a pair of baggy pants borrowed off one of the Gunners they’d blasted through a few weeks back. Shit. Eyes carefully trained his hands, he held her by the elbow while she twisted and turned to maneuver her broken leg into some clothes. Happened to notice the burn on her thigh had mostly healed up, though it left one hell of a scar. He turned around the second he wasn’t needed, but that was two times he’d seen her without pants and he was starting to think the whole universe was trying to fuck with him. He helped her jab another stim into her calf and he wondered for a second if it was possible to overdose on that shit.

                By the time they were done, it must have been noon. She had him set up seats at the bar—one on the inside, where she stashed some guns in case things went sour, and four on the other side across from her. He went down to the square and rounded up one representative from each gang to send back to their leader as an invitation. Drinks at sunset up at Fizztop. News had already spread that all the parks were clear, so Gage was certain Nisha, Mason, Mags, and William would show.

                Sunset came quick that night. She was seated at the bar with him behind her when the gang leaders showed up. Mason was first, followed by Mags and William. Nisha wasn’t far behind. Everything went pretty smooth for a second—the Boss greeted everyone and offered beer, Mason threatened to shoot William, Mags asked everyone to make this shit quick, he stood back with his gun ready.

                Nisha’s eyes went right to the map the Boss had set out on the middle of the counter and she walked right through the other leaders and leaned against the bar. Took her about two seconds to realize that the Disciples had gotten the Galactic Zone and the Gulch. He thought he could see the grin behind her mask in every line of her body. She dropped onto a stool and leaned back, half-turned towards the boss and half-turned towards the other gang leaders. They caught on. Mason leaned all the way over the map and stared for a solid minute. When he figured out his territories, he let out a whoop and looked back at William, smug as hell. Safari and Kiddie Kingdom.

                With both Nisha and Mason looking over at them, Mags and William got the gist. Mags put her hand on William’s arm but marched forward to look at the map anyways. Her eyes bounced over the map and her shoulders stiffened. William stepped forward for a second to peek over his sister’s shoulder, but backed up towards the door once he’d had a good look. Lola hooked her arm around the back of her seat casually, but her other hand, the one on her knee, was only a couple of inches away from her pistol.

                “The fuck do you mean by this, Boss?”

                “I’ve worked out a plan that’s fair for everyone. Smallest gang, smallest territory. It is only logical.”

                “Sounds right to me,” Nisha purred.

                “Course it fucking does, you got two.” William’s tone was low and dangerous. Gage adjusted his grip on his gun as a warning. Mags looked back at William before jerking her head towards the lift. William took the hint and stalked off. Once he was gone, Mags sat herself down at the bar.

                “We done here, then? Was this what you called us for?” Her tone was bitter as hell, and Gage wasn’t a whole hell of a lot more comfortable now that William was out.

                “No.” The Boss folded up the map and tucked it into her shirt pocket, eyes bright, cool as frostbite. “We need to talk resources now.”

                She let them go about a half an hour later, when they’d hammered out some supply lines and trade agreements outside of Nukatown. In fairness, what Mags was losing in terms of ground, she’d be making up in trade revenue, in an attempt to balance it all out. It wasn’t a bad shake. Mason and Nisha weren’t thrilled but accepted the terms because hell. They’d each get the run of two big territories. Mags was silent. She was the first one out the door. Mason shook Lola’s hand with a wolfish grin before leaving, and Nisha nodded. They weren’t done—not by a longshot—but at least they’d gotten through this night without gunfire.

                The boss slumped over the table and took a slug from her untouched beer.

                After a long silence, she finally asked, “do you think it went well?”

                “About as well as it could’ve.”

                She sat back up and leaned her head against his side. He rested his arm around her shoulders. He camped out in her room that night, tucked down into a booth with his gun in case Mags or William decided to drop by.

 

                The next morning, she had a visitor. He came up the lift uninvited and alone, which was a damn good way to get shot. Gage had a bullet waiting for the Pack mutt, but Lola held up a hand and shuffled over, stopping just shy. He didn’t recognize this one. Sunglasses, even though it was overcast and grey out. Tall, straight-backed. There was something about the way he carried himself that Gage felt like he shoulda been able to remember. Laughter danced in Lola’s eyes when he came to her side, but she pressed her lips together hard.

                “You’re either a sheep or a wolf.” The man’s voice was low and casual, which didn’t sound nothing like any of the Pack initiates he’d heard. “Which are you?”

                “A bunny.” She rolled her eyes. Gage kept a hand on his pistol. “What are _you_ doing all the way out here?”

                The man lowered his sunglasses for a second to reveal two different-colored eyes, one blue and one green. When he winked, the boss thumped him on the arm, and then reached out and hugged him. Over her shoulder, the man’s eyes flickered to Gage. That was when he realized it. He remembered hearing that voice come out of a masked Disciple back at the hub. And from an Operator in a suit and sunglasses late at night at the arcade. He kept his mouth shut, but swore he could see the sunglasses man grin.

                “A little birdie thought you might appreciate the check-up. We were wondering if you’d lost your mind.”

                “I haven’t.”

                “I know. I talked to the doctor at the marketplace.”

                Lola shot the man a meaningful look, but Gage couldn’t figure out what the hell it meant.

                “Anyways. Thought you could use the intel. The Operators are out. They’ve taken over the Power Plant. From the sound of it, they want to try and take the park back after building up their numbers.”

                She let out a huff of breath. “Figures.”

                “They wouldn’t be able to. Little to no real organization, William’s a hothead, and Mags isn’t patient enough.”

                “But I still have to send a message.”

                The sunglasses man ducked his head to look her in the eye. “Isn’t like you haven’t done the impossible before.”

                “Can I count on back-up?”

                “You cleared my schedule through to the next century, my friend.”

                “Damn right.”

                The man nodded and left without another word.

                “Friend of yours?” He waited for her to tell him to mind his own business, but she smiled thinly instead.

                “Old friend. His information is good. We need to suit up.”

                He wanted to ask what in the hell that was all about, but it didn’t seem like a good time. Bigger fish to fry here. He sent word to Mason and Nisha. They gave themselves a couple of days to come up with a game plan, and then she led the gangs across no-man's land like a damned general with her rag-tag army.

                It didn’t take them long to mop up the Operators. They were dug in pretty good, but not so good that they could withstand The Pack and The Disciples. Fighting side-by-side. Never thought he’d see the day. The Boss led the fucking charge, proving once again that Gage had sure as shit chosen the right leader. She drew more fire than anyone he knew. In between picking off Operators, he kept his eyes peeled for her old friend. Sure enough, Sunglasses man popped up when Gage had fallen back. He knocked out an Operator who was about to jam a knife up into the Boss’s ribs and shot him with a silenced pistol. Well. He had his questions, but at least her friend legitimately seemed to be on her side.

                They found Mags and William holed up with the last of their forces on the roof. The cluster grenades were a bitch, but he and the boss cleaned house in no time with their goddamned army trailing behind them. It wasn’t until she was standing silhouetted in the wide window of the plant’s control room that he realized what they had just done. Her hand hovered over the switch. In the grey light of dusk, he couldn’t make out anything but the shape of her, and the white of her teeth when she looked back at him and flashed him a smile. Her hand came down on the button and the place plunged into blinding light. On the horizon, he could see the other parks spark to life—bright-as-day reds, blues, whites, greens. She turned back from the console and threw her arms around his neck. He held her tight against him.

                They were gonna get to ride all the rides.  


	7. Miss Minuteman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when you think you know a person.

                She told him that she would head out again a week after retaking the power plant. No explanation, but she said it casually, like it didn’t merit confusion that she—the Overboss of the biggest gang cooperative in the Commonwealth—was just taking off in a vertibird alone after everything that had gone down securing this place. Hadn’t been too bad a week, but they’d been kept busy handling the little shit that came up after the upset. The Bottling Plant was still a no-man’s-land for now, but everything had mostly settled.

                “At some point, are you gonna show me where the hell it is you leave for so often?”

                She leaned against his shoulder and looked up at the sky. He could feel every place where her skin touched him. The sun was low on the horizon. She took a swig of her beer and bit off a piece of the jerky in her hands.

                “That’s a complicated question.”

                “More complicated than Mags and William?”

                She grinned around the mouth of the beer bottle and it was either that smile or something in his brain shaking lose for good, but he really liked this view, looking down at her sitting on roof of her room at Fizztop, watching over her goddamned empire in the setting sun. Something damn fine about that. He had admitted it to himself already—he wanted her. But moments like this, he wasn’t completely sure if it was just that. Golden light poured over her skin.

                She looked down at her PipBoy, played with a couple of dials, and then stood up with her hand out. He took it and she hauled him up onto his feet.

                “Fine. I’m going to show you something very important, alright? Just need to get to the radio in my room.” Her eyes bounced over to the horizon. “I can’t talk about it yet, so I just need you to trust me.”

                He jumped down first and then reached up so she could slide off the roof and into his arms. She was solid and the feel of her sent a shock through him that felt so damn nice he didn’t want to set her down. Didn’t miss a beat, though, and the second her feet touched the floor, she was off into her room and crouching in front of the HAM radio on her desk. She played with the dials for a moment before she found the right channel.

                “Tinker? Tinker, it’s Wanderer. Do you copy?”

                “Loud and, uh, kinda clear, Wanderer.” The voice was more static than words, but he could still make out a male voice on the other end.

                “Need a pickup for the usual. I can be at the site before sun-up. Think you can send someone?”

                “Fixer’ll be there.”          

                “You’re the best.”

                “You know it. Over and out!”

                She set the microphone back down and changed the station again, so that it was set to a random channel. Smart. “You wanted to know where I’ve been going.”

                “It’d be nice.” He folded his arms over his chest.

                “Rest up, then, because you’re coming with me tomorrow morning.”

                Her smile was slow, but resolute. He’d said he’d follow her to the ends of the Earth once, and now, he guessed, he’d have his chance to prove it. He nodded.

                “Alright. You’re the Boss.”                                                                           

                She’d said to rest up, but the acid feeling in the pit of his gut kept him up almost until she came into his room in the morning, dragged him out to the middle of nowhere outside Nukatown, and loaded him into a waiting vertibird.

                                                                                   

                Something nagged at him when they landed on the other side of a broken bridge at midmorning, across from what looked like a gotdamned fortress. The flags. It was definitely the flags. They were blue, with some logo on the front.

                “Minutemen.”

                “Yes.” She hopped down out of the cabin of the vertibird and nodded to the pilot. He followed, and felt spongey earth under his boots. Wasn’t a lot of grass at Nuka World, which suited him fine.

                “We can’t take on a settlement—not the two of us alone. What in the hell are you thinkin’, Boss?”

                “We aren’t taking over. We’re going to stay here for a few days.” She looked up at him and lowered the bandana from her face. “I will explain everything, but just follow my lead for now, okay?”

                He nodded, but loaded the handgun on his hip.

                She waved her hand high over her head as they walked across the gates, and he could hear the turrets chugging along. Four turrets, a spotlight, two guard posts, and two heavy artillery pieces all along a catwalk that bracketed the high gate. They wouldn’t even make it into the settlement. He glanced around, and there were high cement walls built all around the perimeter. No way in but this gate.

                “General?” It was one of the female guards. A pinched, bitter looking woman who barely smiled in recognition. But she _did_ recognize the Boss. The man at the other guardpost was massive, decked out in gleaming Power Armor. The gate finally swung open and a man with one of those shitty crank laser muskets walked through. He was tall, wearing a Minuteman duster.

                “General? _Lola!”_ She ran up to him and he hugged her so tight that he picked her up off the ground. She hugged back and laughed—a real laugh, not one for show—when he finally set her down.

                “General, the boys will be so happy to see you. When you didn’t radio, they got worried.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “They’re over in the Clubhouse right now, if you want to go see them.”

                “I do. I’ll walk over in a second.” She glanced around. “Where’s Mac?”

                “Hunting. We had to keep him busy or he’d be halfway to Nuka World by now.”

                She smiled up at the man and hugged him again. What in the hell was going on here?

                “Preston, this is my friend Gage.” She looked at him, and when their eyes met, her expression was stern. _Play nice. Behave._ “Gage, this is Preston Garvey.”

                Preston held out his hand to shake and Gage accepted. The man had a firm handshake, but if this puffed up sheep thought he was intimidating, he had another gotdamned thing coming.

                She frowned when she watched them. Preston squared his shoulders.

                “Come on.” She jerked her head to the side in hopes he would follow. He did follow, but he kept that Preston fella in the corner of his eye as best he could. If the damn fool was going to try something, Gage would be good and ready. She waved to random settlers as they walked, and even greeted some by name.

                He hadn’t said a word, but she caught his eye and leaned a little closer. “I’ll explain later Gage, but I need you to trust me. Can you do that?”

                “You’re the Boss.” He was starting to wonder just what in the hell that meant, but he’d wait. The Boss was always making plans; he was gonna figure out what this one was.

                Her friend Preston hung back, but he was still sure as shit following them. Keeping an eye on them. No, keeping an eye on _him._

                She stopped at a big yellow house—a pre-war dig—and dumped some of the random shit she’d picked up out of her pack into a cluttered shed on the car port. After, she skirted around the house and past a handy little garden to a wooden shack with a brightly colored flag hanging off the wall. The massive barn door was open to reveal a little room with a couch, a rug, some toys, and a ladder leading up to what must be a damn tiny loft.

                “Wait here.” She ducked into the shed and called up “Shaun? Duncan?”

                Like thunder, little footsteps pounded down the ladder as two small boys came running, tripping over each other, into her waiting arms. She crouched down low and the boys swamped her. One was tiny with brown hair and the other a little bigger with red hair just like hers. Took a second to click, but then the red-haired boy called her “Mom.”

                “Mom! I’m so glad you’re home! Did you bring me an alarm clock?”

                “Got it right here, Shaun.” She pulled the thing out of her pocket. Gage had tried to get her to drop it a million times, and she had been so damn insistent that she needed the stupid thing. Guess now he knew why.

                The boy seized on the alarm clock and turned it around in his hands a couple of times.

                “Thanks Mom! Sturges said I could use his toolbox if I wanted, and I think that I can make something neat with this. Oh!” He jumped, startling the smaller kid, and dug into his pocket. “I made you this.”

                Lola accepted the thing he’d handed to her and thanked him. It didn’t look like much to Gage, but she examined it between her fingers.

                “It’s for your radio,” Shaun finally supplied. “I know you and Uncle Preston were talking about the range on your radio and how you can’t get it to work beyond Diamond City. This should boost the signal a little. Duncan and I tested it.”

                “Cait and Curie used Preston’s radio aaaaall the way out in ‘fuck nowhere’!” The smaller kid, Duncan, added. Lola’s eyebrows shot up. His kinda kid.

                “Duncan!” She looked way too surprised for someone who used the word “fuck” like punctuation.

                “Sorry, Mom!” Shaun shrugged. “Cait said it on the radio. I don’t think Duncan knows…”

                “Daddy said it was far away!” Duncan beamed up at her, completely unaware. The kid musta been what, five?

                “Dunc, Mister MacCready said that was a bad word.” Shaun seemed to be the goodie-two-shoes of the pair. And he was _her_ kid?

                “Oh.” Duncan nodded. “Right!”

                Shaun looked back at his mom, who was trying not to laugh. She kissed Shaun’s forehead.

                “I think Uncle Preston said Cait and Dr. Curie were at the Marina getting supplies. Is that far?”   

                “Yes, Shaun! That’s very far.” She pulled up her Pipboy and showed him her map. “See? Diamond City is here, and the Marina is here.” Her finger traced along the screen. He recognized Diamond City, but where in the hell was the Marina? _What_ in the hell was the Marina?

                Lola finally stood up and turned back to look at Gage. It was like the Boss was a whole different person here, and he wasn’t sure he liked it. She gestured to the boys and they looked up at Gage too—the older one wary, the younger one curious.

                “Shaun? Duncan? This is Gage, one of my friends.”

                “Hi Gage!” Duncan waved and looked up at him before saying “he’s very tall.”

                Shaun sized him up and down like he wasn’t sure how to respond for a minute. He stood close to Lola and wouldn’t come any closer. Finally, he said “Hi, Mr. Gage,” and held out his hand to shake. For the second time today, and probably the third time this whole year, Gage reached out and shook the kid’s hand. Weird-ass Wastelanders and their weird hand-shaking customs.

                They passed the house with the shed and crossed the old street and headed towards a blue house. There were empty suits of Power Armor on either side of the door, and some children’s toys on the lawn. Inside the place was patched up, with soft couches in the living room, food in the kitchen, and a doghouse with a happy-looking shepherd in the corner. The dog ran over and she stooped down to pet it. It finally sunk in. No way in hell this was a pit-stop, she _lived_ here. The house was hers—she even had one of those ridiculous Pack scarves Mason had given her strung up over a coat stand.

                Duncan grabbed a comic off the rack in the living room and made himself comfortable on the couch. Shaun followed Lola into the kitchen and watched her sip from a can of purified water. Wherever she turned, he followed. Who in the hell _was_ she? The Boss _he_ knew would never put up with that shit. She’d shove him off like she did the Raiders. And yet here she was, sitting in this fucking Minuteman _settlement,_ settling in with two squealing, underfoot brats. To her _kids._ At least, the redhead had to be hers. That hair was unmistakable. The other one didn’t look nothin’ like her, but hell, he sure as shit wasn’t an expert on genetics. Could be hers too. She curled up on the couch with a kid on either side of her and nodded for him to sit by the window. The boys talked at her for a while and she listened with all the patience in the goddamned world. When that was done, she read through three different comics with them before the door creaked open again.

                “Hey, anybody home?”

                It was the man who’d been with her when she ran the Gauntlet. Skinny guy—good with a gun, if he was remembering right. Not so good with splitting up.

                Lola stood up from the couch and he crossed the room damn quick and pulled her close. Gage wanted to look away—shit seemed real personal—but he couldn’t. The man had one arm all the way around her, and held the back of her head with his other hand. He stroked her hair and kissed her face. She smiled and kissed him back. Something in the pit of his gut sank all the way to the floor but he couldn’t peel his eyes away.

                “Daddy!” Duncan latched on to the man’s leg immediately. Shaun smiled (more at ease now that the man was here) and said “Mr. MacCready!”

                Skinny guy. She and skinny guy were an item. Why skinny guy? Didn’t seem like the Boss, but then again, nothing about this day had seemed like her. Skinny guy spotted Gage out of the corner of his eye, but didn’t look surprised at all. Someone must have told him about the Boss and her new _friend._ Shee-it, he didn’t know if he could call the Boss his damn friend if he didn’t know anything about her.

                “RJ?” She smoothed her hand over his cheek and Gage would have paid _anything_ to not have been in that same room with her right now. “Mac. This is my new friend. Gage. The one who _helped us,_ remember?”

                Mac looked over at Gage and nodded. “Hi.”

                Gage looked Mac up and down. “Hi.”

                “Boys?” Mac finally let go of Lola and looked over at the two kids. “Do you wanna head to your room for a minute?”

                “Daddy—”

                “Okay!” Shaun interrupted what looked like a tantrum from Duncan, leading the kid down the hallway to where their bedroom must’ve been.

                Mac pulled his gun off his back and set it down beside the counter, looking at Gage the whole time. Gage shifted back on the couch to reveal the 10 mm on his hip. He may have dropped the shotgun for now, but try something, asshole, and old Gage’d be ready.

                “Lola, a word.”                                                                                                                                                                

                “Mac—”

                “Please?”

                They stepped into the hallway and talked, heads bent close together. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but Gage was damn sure it wasn’t favorable. He didn’t miss the fact that Mac had sent the kids out of the room and then stood in between Gage and where the children were. He wasn’t gonna do anything to their precious brats. For shit’s sake.

                They came back after a moment, and Mac stuck out his hand. Fucking wastelanders. Gage accepted and shook it.

                “Name’s MacCready.”

                “Gage.”

                “I remember.”

                Lola elbowed MacCready in the ribs.

                “Gage, we were going to do dinner soon. Radstag okay?”

                She knew damn well it was fine. He didn’t give a shit what they were eating. He nodded and she sent Mac out to get meat from the stores for a stew while she cut up vegetables from the garden. He waited until Mac was out of the house before getting up and crossing the room. When he peeked down the hall, he saw the two little boys playing on the rug in the room at the end. The older one—Shaun—watched him.

                “Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on here, Boss?”

                She looked up from the tato she was chopping. “Not yet. Not till we’re back at Nuka World.” Her eyes were sincere, warm. She didn’t even realize he was pissed. Fuckin’ hell. “I know I have some things to tell you, and I will, but this is a touchy situation I’m in, alright?”

                “Fine.” He dropped back down onto the couch and kicked his feet up on the coffee table, almost knocking over a flower vase filled with hubflowers. _Jesus_.

                Dinner was pretty quiet. The littlest kid wouldn’t shut up, but Shaun and Mac were nearly silent, and Lola only jumped in every now and again to encourage Duncan. She was clearly trying to keep the peace, but Mac watched Gage like a hawk, and kept himself in between Gage and everyone else whenever possible. Even sat next to him on that cramped little couch while Lola sat with the boys across from them. He woulda thought it kinda funny if he wasn’t in a less-than-funny mood himself already. As if this skinny merc could take him. He ate mercs for fuckin’ breakfast.

                Finally, it was time to tuck the kids in to bed. Duncan pulled out that stupid Grognak comic again, and Lola went to read to the boys. From the hall, he watched Lola sit cross-legged on the bed closest to the window with both boys—Duncan in her lap and Shaun leaning against her shoulder. Mac stood in the hall with him. They made eye-contact, and Mac jerked his head towards the living room. Folding his arms over his chest, Gage followed.

                “Listen.” MacCready had barely even waited for Gage to make it into the room. “What is your deal?”

                “My deal?”

                “You’re one of those Raiders, right? You helped Lola through that fight in the arena. Why?”

                “None of your got-damned business, I recon.”

                “Listen, assh—pal. This is my family. If anything happens to _any_ of them, you will have some real problems on your hands.”

                “Will I now?” Gage thumbed the gun on his belt. Mac watched his hand and leaned back towards the couch. He pulled out the shotgun from earlier—big ugly lookin’ thing. Didn’t raise it or nothing, but it was there.

                “You will. You shoot and you won’t make it out of the settlement. Even if you get by me.” The gun looked natural in his hands. Lola didn’t pick people who couldn’t hold their own, he’d say _that_ for her. “She trusts you. I don’t. And I’m not losing her because she trusted the wrong person. Are we clear?”

                “Crystal.” Gage wondered if Mac could hear him grinding his teeth. He’d keep the peace. For the Boss. But she had some goddamned explaining to do when they left this shithole.

                Mac nodded, and then brought the gun back into the room across from the boy’s. His room, probably. And Lola’s. He waited in the doorway for Lola to finish reading to the boys. From where Gage was standing, he could watch Lola tuck the older one into the bed by the window, and then cross the room to say goodnight to the littler one. Mac walked in as she left the room to say goodnight as well.

                They sat around the living room for a bit drinking beer through an awkward silence. Lola asked Mac about the crops. The water pump. The curtain wall. The settlers. Marcy was doing better in security, evidently. Jun was teaching the boys to farm. The Grahams were expecting a baby. All mundane shit. He looked at Gage when he told her that they’d successfully fended off a Raider attack. Killed every last one of them before they’d made it across the bridge. She shifted uncomfortably, but muttered “good.”

                Like Gage would be offended. If those dumb shits tried to run a bridge with no cover through gunfire, they deserved what they fucking got.

                Finally, it was late enough to turn in.

                “Gage, if you would like, you could sleep on the couch or in one of the spare bunks. I’m sure the refugee house has some.” She set her empty beer bottle on the counter. Mac looked like he wanted to strangle her.

                “I’ll take the couch, thanks.” Just to piss off the merc. His back would ache in the morning, but he’d slept in worse places, and he’d do just about anything to piss off that smug bastard right about now.

                Lola put a hand on Mac’s arm and then walked over to the hall closet to grab a blanket and an extra pillow. They were both soft, and smelled strongly like abraxo. He’d seen the Boss sleep on a moldy mattress in the middle of an old parking lot. Who the fuck was this bitch, with her goddamned abraxo cleaner and pillows and kids? He pulled off the heavy frame of his armor, kicked off his boots, and hunkered down while the merc glared holes into him from the hallway. She ducked into the bathroom in the hallway and came out with wet hair, wrapped in a worn dark blue robe. About as at home as could be.

                It was quiet. No rioting, no partying, no gunshots. Quiet. The damn quiet woke him up every ten minutes or so, and after shifting for the millionth time, he finally got up to take a piss. The bathroom had lights, decorative candles, a shower and bathtub, a working toilet, and sink. The cabinet over the sink had four toothbrushes on the battered shelves. The water ran pretty clear—clean enough to drink from without popping a radaway. When he pushed aside the curtain door (which was really just another fucking Minuteman flag, repurposed) he stepped out into the hall. His eyes adjusted to the dark quick, and he peeked into the master bedroom. Out of curiosity.

                She was draped over the merc under a heavy blanket, her head on his chest, hand gripping his shirt. Pretty little mouth slack. No armor in sight—she was stripped down to what looked like her underwear. She was completely relaxed. Didn’t toss and turn or jump like she did when they slept out in the Wasteland, didn’t wake up wild-eyed suddenly to look around in a panic before settling back down. Her merc was staring at the ceiling, still awake. Gage could see the whites of his eyes from the moonlight trickling in through gaps in the patchwork wall. He traced up and down her bare arm with the backs of his fingers over and over.

                Her boys were tucked into identical beds on either side of the small room across the way. They were both snuggled up under heavy blankets and a few raggedy teddy bears and miscellaneous toys. Now he knew why she was always grabbing all that souvenir crap the Pack usually hoarded. She was bringing it home to her kids. He saw a souvenir bear scrubbed clean sitting on the dresser in between the two beds next to a lamp and a toy car.

                This was where she’d been going. In between turning his head and clearing the parks, she’d been coming home to her man and her kids and her friends and her water filters. A lotta shit started making sense as he stood there in her house in the dark. He retreated back to the living room couch, more outnumbered than when the Gangs had turned on him after Coulter.


	8. Miss Coulda' Been

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shoulda', coulda', woulda'.

                When he finally fell asleep, he dreamed they were back in the Galactic Zone, sandwiched in an alley, running from gunfire. He jerked her back against him. This time, the bots didn’t come around the corner. They didn’t keep shooting. Or, if they did, Gage didn’t even fucking notice them. The second she was up against him, he breathed in that warm soap smell of her hair again. Could feel the muscles in her stomach clench under his fingers. He slid his hands down to her hips and she rocked back against him. Everything was movement; he unbuckled her belt and slid his palm down against her skin until she made a noise that sounded like pure sin. They were both wearing armor, but that was fine by him. Better, actually. It gave him something to hold onto. When she begged him, he flipped her around, yanked her jeans off the rest of the way, and crushed her against the wall so her feet were up off the ground. He could feel the heave of her chest against his. Deep breaths, stuttering and shaking when he touched her. He got his pants down far enough and drove up into her hard and fast. Tight. Hot. She squirmed between him and the wall. She sucked in a breath through her teeth and raked her nails down his shoulders—a shock of lightning zinging down his spine. Her mouth tasted like iron, dust, and cherry Nuka Cola when he bit that plump lower lip.

                The scene melted around him and then they were back at her place at night, drinking. Only, he wasn’t as drunk. Neither of them were. He told her how he felt and she looked up at him with those sharp eyes. When she grabbed his armor and kissed him, it was on the lips this time. Their noses bumped and his hands sprang up to the sides of her face. She had a rounded little nose but a hard jaw—almost squared off—and he could trace his finger along the razor edge of it. He tipped down and pressed his lips to the hollow under her jaw. Kissed her throat with his mouth open so he could run his tongue along her neck and taste the warmth of her skin. Back up to nip her earlobe. She shivered, still gripping the frame of his armor. When he came back to her mouth she pulled his bottom lip between hers and sucked just hard enough where he could feel his own pulse against her mouth. He leaned back for half a second and hot breath fanned over him as she gasped for air.

                She was wearing that button-up she’d grabbed off a dummy in the Gulch. Nothing _but_ the button-up she’d grabbed off the dummy in the gulch. He grabbed the front of the shirt and yanked until the buttons popped off and skittered across the floor. Her skin was smooth all the way down, bathed in that dim light from the neon signs outside. She was like a goddamned painting with that wild hair and those red lips and all that warm, soft skin. Stood there for a second, looking up at him with wide eyes, irises dark splotches, huge and round. Then she let the shirt slip off her shoulders. He collapsed backwards onto the barstool and she followed, climbing naked as the day she was born into his lap. He could feel the strength in her hips when she rolled them, writhing until fucking hell it _hurt_ to so much as look at her. He grabbed her ass and pulled her hard against him. She gasped and her head tipped back and right as it did the scene shifted again.

                Now they were boarding the vertibird. He was tired and sore from all the running around they’d done. She reached down from the cabin and grabbed his hand. Her had was warm and soft like the rest of her. He didn’t really need the help up, but he’d take any excuse to touch her. In his memory, it stopped there. She had let go once he was up and buckled down for the ride. In the dream, he leaned down and kissed the top of her head real gentle. She flashed him a smile like bottled sunshine and her hair lit up in the dawn, traces of golden light ribboning in rich green eyes. They were close. So close. She pulled his hand up to her face and pressed her lips to his knuckles.

 

                When he woke up, it was overcast, chilly, and she was in the kitchen with her damn kid, making breakfast. He felt like he’d been flattened by a yao guai.

 

                They spent another day with her family at Sanctuary. He followed her around, stuck close and kept his hands in his pockets, but everyone watched him. Guards, farmers, the bartender, her friend Preston, her merc. Ran into sunglasses guy once. Apparently, he was actually bald—coulda sworn he had hair back when he was pretending to be part of the Pack. He nodded to Gage. Go fucking figure. Even her damn dog seemed to pick up on the tension and eyeballed him. The cats that hung around the garden scattered when he walked by, but he was always walking by because she was always running around. She checked on crops, shored up defenses, talked to all the shopkeepers. People came at her with requests and complaints and all the while, they looked at him out the corner of their eyes, like he was a steaming pile of shit. He was tired of holding his fucking breath, and that was for sure.

                Every few minutes, she would glance back at him. She fixed up their guns with what looked like an endless supply of scrap she kept in the shed and around the workshop on the edge of the settlement. She took him to the shops to restock on bullets and stims.  She had her settlement’s petite doctor look both of them over head to fucking toe, bandaging shit up, starting a file on him, giving them nutrition tips. They were constantly busy. She even took him on a tour of the houses. There were whole families, a communal house, a rec room, a communal kitchen, a bathouse. Hell, she’d even set up places for visiting caravanners to stay.

                On their way out, she stopped by the gate to say goodbyes. There was a tearful moment between her and the boys. _Christ._ How in the hell hadn’t he noticed she was so goddamned soft? A couple of people shook her hand. The doctor zipped a med-kit into her ruck and scolded her. A redhead punched her arm. Her bald friend who’d pretended to be part of the Pack clapped her on the back. She and Preston hugged again. She said goodbye to Mac last. He pulled her in tight and kissed her hard. His hand was an inch shy of grabbing her ass. Wrapped all the way around her. If Gage could have crawled out of his skin, he woulda. He couldn’t look away. Mac adjusted his hat on her head when he set her down and whispered something against her cheek. She lit up and smiled wide and Gage was half-tempted to just start fucking walking. He was shaking like he was full of angry stingwings. And he was burning. Fucking ash in his mouth and cinders in his gut.

                She waved a hand high over her head once they were over the bridge. He was already in the vertibird and stuck his hand out to help her up without even realizing he was doing it. Lola clambered in beside him and buckled in. Not like they could chit-chat over the sound of the wind and the engine, so it was a quiet ride home. She smiled at him and gazed out at the horizon like it was all just sunshine and fuckin’ rainbows. Leaving Nukaworld, he’d been hypnotized by the tendrils of her hair in the wind. On the ride back, he stared at the floor.

                She was quiet but chipper as all get-out on the walk back to Fizztop. It wasn’t till she was inside that she turned to talk to him.

                “So. You have questions.”

                “You’re fucking right I do.” He leaned back against the bar with his arms crossed over his chest. She reached out like she was going to touch his arm, but understanding flickered across her face. She flinched.

                “You’re upset?”

                “I am.”

                She exhaled hard and looked at the floor for a second before meeting his eyes. He’d been obsessed with those eyes. He’d been obsessed with _her._ He had the sudden urge to wash her out of him. Spit or vomit or sweat her out. Something. He wanted to peel her out of his brain, but there she was and he couldn’t do anything about it. She was sunk too far into his fucking skin.

                “I’m the Minutemen General,” she started. “We got an incoming transition about Nukaworld and I decided to check it out to see if it would be a good place for a settlement.”

                Gage had considered something like that as a possibility, but hearing her say it was different.

                “When Mac and I saw what you all had made of the park, I thought it would be a lost cause. But then you helped me kill Coulter and told me about clearing the parks and I just…I realized there was hope for this place.”

                “There was.” He woulda killed someone for a cigarette right about now. Or whiskey. Or fucking Jet.

                “Is.” She sucked in a breath. “I spoke with some of the traders in the market. They have a plan to take this place back and make it into a trading hub. It could be just what we all need!”

                There was a high-pitched ringing in his ears that drowned out half of what she was saying. He pieced it together slowly. They betray the gangs and use Minutemen forces and the traders to overthrow the Pack and the Disciples. He takes over the new Nukaworld settlements and trading post. More people come. They build a city to rival the Great Green Jewel of the Commonwealth. The more people they have, the more people can defend the steading. Everyone’s safe, rich, and happy. No one has to scrounge or run a Gauntlet or worry about being stabbed in the back again. They set up an honest-to-goodness society without the violence and corruption.

                U-fucking-topia.

                Except, it wouldn’t be. He’d lived in a settlement. Spent his childhood on a farm. No one gets anywhere in this life following rules and playing nice, and they both knew that. She had to know that. She had the scars to prove it. Raider communities worked because they didn’t waste time tilling farmland or caravanning. They fought all the time. They took what they needed, killed the people that got in their way, and then brought the spoils back to a base that couldn’t be any fucking safer—no civilians in a radier camp, and the place was stacked with enough ammunition to take on an army. Anyone could kill anyone at any time, and that kept the balance. The Brotherhood hadn’t been able to unseat them. The Gunners hadn’t. No way in hell the Minutemen would.

                She was still talking, but he could only hear every other word. She was passionate. She was smiling. Who the fuck was she? He couldn’t match her up with the woman he’d watched take over Nukaworld. The Boss was tough, stubborn, and smart as hell. Took no shit, gave no quarter, and fucked up the people who thought they could take her. He’d seen it. He’d watched her every step. He wasn’t a fool and he didn’t place bad bets; how could he have missed this side of her completely? She squeezed his hand and he snapped back into reality.

                 She was still talking nonsense.

                “You’ve seen what a settlement can do if people come together. Sanctuary? My home? That is one of _many_. We have posts all over the Wasteland, Gage. A whole network. If we turn Nukaworld into a hub, we’ll have that much more cementing our hold. The Minutemen have an army.” She ran a hand through her hair. “People fight for us because they’ve got something to lose, not because they’re scared of me. They want to protect their home. We’ll have no trouble defending the parks when we re-settle them.”

                “That’s why you brought me to meet your fuckin’ family.”

                She winced. “I know you. I figured you’d have to see it to believe it, but there is another way to live, Gage. A better way. You saw. We can defend ourselves. No one starves, no one sleeps on the ground. We have beds and shops and we look out for each other. We could bring that _here._ ”

                Like fucking hell they could. Big temptation like her place? It would only be a matter of time before someone knocked it the hell down. Shredded her settlers, leveled her neat, patched-up houses, and murdered her goddamned kids. She was an idiot if she thought otherwise.

                “We have a whole network. And we’re _growing,_ Gage. We even have outposts up north—past the Commonwealth. Once we clean this place up, you’ll see. You don’t even have to stay here if you don’t want. You could live at Sanctuary, or Goodneighbor, or any of the settlements. Or I could find someone to lead Nukaworld, and you could whisper in _their_ ear.”

                He remembered the beds. The garden. The water purifiers chugging in the background. The shops. The people. How old was her network? A couple years or so at most, assuming she came around the time the Minutemen started getting back on their feet. Things always looked good in the first few years, but then it would all go to shit. Someone gets greedy, and then the whole place is like a tinder box waiting for a spark. One bar fight, and the gig would be up. Her network would collapse and cannibalize itself like they all did. Raiders would decimate the place. Or Muties. Or Gunners. Or ferals. Peace could only last so long in the Wasteland. She had to know that. He had thought she’d be smart enough to know that. He gripped the edge of the bar for support like he was running out of air. A little dizzy.

                 Crazy fuckin’ nonsense. People are all the same, no matter where you go. If it ain’t raiders breathing down his neck, it’ll be Wastelanders. Or Gunners. Whoever. Everybody wants shit. He wouldn’t’ve been surprised if he’d gone slack-jawed while she was yammering away. She let go of his hand and walked back over to the window, silhouetted as the sun set behind her.

                Well, she’d driven him every other kinda wild, why not this kind too? He wanted to grab a fistful of that red hair, but he wasn’t sure if he’d kiss her till her lips bruised, or bounce her skull of the goddamned table. This is what trusting people gets you. He’d known it. Sure as shit, he’d known it. But she’d done some fuckin’ magic or something and sucked him in and now it was back to bite him in the ass. The column of her neck looked long and vulnerable when she leaned against the window and tilted her head back. There was an empty bottle on the table beside her. He could grab for the bottle, smash it, and drive the broken piece into her throat till she stopped fucking talking. He should—she’d made it damn clear to him that only one of them was walking away from this when she’d suggested betraying the gangs. In too fucking deep and now? His fists clenched on the bar’s counter.

                “You could live like that—without constant fear that the gangs will revolt and kill you.” She turned back around, eyes searching his face. “And once this place is cleared out, you’ll be rich and safe, just like you wanted.”

                That wasn’t what he wanted.

                 He had wanted Nukaworld.

                He had wanted to shoot Gunners from the roof of her bedroom, go on all the rides around the parks with her, and then watch her smack the shit out of dissenters, reminding them all the while that she was the crazy bitch who’d taken out Coulter _and_ the Operators.

                He had wanted the two of them to be the top dogs of Nukaworld, living smart and taking whatever the fuck they wanted, whenever the fuck they wanted.

                He had wanted to keep on the way they’d been going.

                He wanted her to be the person he’d thought she was.

                He had wanted her.                       

                She’d finally stopped talking. It was her or their empire. Either he let her tear down everything they’d built so she could give it all to people who would lose it in less than a month to the Gunners right outside their door, or he kill her here and take control himself. He needed this hellhole. This was Nukaworld. The same Nukaworld he’d killed Coulter to save. She wasn’t Coulter, but that shouldn’t change where his loyalties lay. He was loyal to one fucking person, and one fucking person only: himself.

                “Gage?”


	9. Miss Lola

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was the biggest mistake he'd ever made.

                He’d thought she was the smart type—take what you want and walk type. But he was wrong. She was just the type to try too hard and wind up dead. Which was just what was about to happen here. His whole body tensed up. She bit her bottom lip— _Christ_ he used to think that was the sexiest thing—and held up both hands, palms out.

                “Gage.” Her voice was soft. Pleading. Purring. Not this time, sweetheart. “You don’t have to live like this. You saw what a bunch of settlers can do when they come together.”

                “The hell I did. All I saw was another shithole filled with shitheads.” His hand was on his gun. He didn’t know how it had gotten there.

                “Gage.” Her tone shifted—serious. Good. She oughta take shit serious for once. “It doesn’t have to end like this.”

                He used to love the way his name sounded in her mouth. He thumbed the gun. “I think you _know_ how this has to end, Boss.”

                She looked at him for a long moment. Really looked at him, like she was waking up out of a dream. Real honest-to-god fear flashed in her eyes and he felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Fearless Boss, and she was afraid of him. The whole thing was goddamned ridiculous.

                Gun on his hip was already in his hand and pointed at her. Things were happening so fast he felt like he was watching himself from the outside, not quite connected to the body that had her at point-blank range. He pulled the hammer back but he couldn’t make his finger twitch on the trigger. The neon lights from Nuka World cast a red glow over her face. In the growing dark, he was losing sight of her eyes. A little desperate, he just wanted to see her eyes. He could picture it. He’d pull the trigger. She’d fall, all that red hair splayed out behind her on the floor, eyes wide and staring at nothing. But he hesitated.

                They’d never get to ride all those rides she’d been so damned excited about.                                    

                She dropped to the floor and rolled to the side, underneath a table. He fired but missed. How had he missed? She was so close. She knocked the table over so that she could shelter behind it and pull out the gun he knew she kept in the waistband of those snug jeans. He heard the click of her gun—locked and loaded.

                “You don’t have to do this, Gage.”                                                                                                                           

                Her disembodied voice knocked him straight in the chest. Like hell he didn’t have to do this. Too little, too late. Kill or be killed, now. He shot the table and the bullet cut through the laminate and buried itself in the wood. Not enough power to push all the way through, but then, part of him knew that. He stalked forward, waiting for her to reappear. Either she was going to come after him on the offensive, or he was going to make it all the way to the table and shoot her up close. When he was half a step away, the table skid across the floor and into his knees, throwing him off balance. She came out of nowhere—fast as anything he’d ever seen—vaulted over the table, and slammed into him at full force.

                Her gun went off right by his right ear as it slipped out of her hand—BANG—and the ringing bounced off the inside of his skull. He’d dropped his gun as well, and she flailed for a second before arranging herself on top of him. She was sitting on his stomach with one arm across his throat and the other scrambling for her pistol. Both guns were well within reach for either of them—it was just a matter of who gained enough control in the mess of limbs and thrashing to grab one. Black blotches exploded across his vision like fireworks. He choked for breath.

                Lola was solid, but she was still a damn sight weaker than his sorry ass. After a minute of scrambling, he grabbed the arm that was across his throat and wrenched hard to the side, folding the arm back on itself until it crooked at an unhealthy angle and she rolled with it to stop him from breaking her forearm off at the elbow.

                Blood pounded in his head. He had the gun back in hand as she got up onto her knees. She leveraged her foot under her to throw herself against him again, that crazy bitch. Who the fuck moves _towards_ the barrel of a gun in a fight? It was effective; she succeeded in knocking him over again, but this time he moved at the right second and was able to roll right on top of her, pinning her facedown beneath him after she hit the ground. He wrapped one arm around her neck and got up onto his knees, taking her with him. Her head snapped back and for a split second, he thought he’d killed her. His heart stopped. When her head lolled against his shoulder and she looked up at him again—eyes wide, pupils dark in bright rings lit up by the neon—he realized she was just stunned. A huff of her breath fanned across his face, sweet and warm.

                He had the gun pressed against her temple before he even realized it. Her hair was all in her face and she clawed at him to let her go. She gasped for air. It was the sound of it that made him feel like he was gonna keel over. Stuttering, raspy and shallow. Her chest heaved. She elbowed him fucking hard in the ribs and kicked and struggled until he pulled her neck so far back he thought she’d snap in half. Her knees were no longer on the floor, supporting her weight. Her feet scrabbled against the ground, but she couldn’t get them under her. Her face was turning purple. The nails on her left hand dug into his arm but she lost her grip and scratched all the way down to his elbow trying to pull him off.

                Awwww hell, and to think there had been a moment there where he would have _loved_ to feel her nails on his skin. Up close, her hair smelled so good and her body was warm and he couldn’t even think about doing what he knew he had to do. She made this choking sound and her body started to go slack. Just pull the fucking trigger already, damnit. Get it over with. He was just dragging it out at this point.

                His finger twitched but wouldn’t obey. He couldn’t do it. This lady had waltzed into his fucking life a few months ago, and now he was so fucking soft he couldn’t bring himself to kill her and move on. At this point, he had to kill her. It was her or Nukaworld. Her life or his. But, he didn’t even mean to; he just lost the will to fight and let go. She hit the floor like a corpse, but she was breathing. After a moment, she rolled onto her back and looked up at him, chest surging up like her lungs were trying to escape her ribcage. The gun was at his side and he couldn’t make himself bring it up to shoot her. He braced his hands against the floor, leaning half over her. She didn’t move.

                “Porter Gage.” Her voice was raspy and low and it sent a shiver down his spine, goddamn him. Her cheeks were flushed. Hell if she wasn’t beautiful even now when looking at her face made him sick to his fucking stomach. He wished she had never burrowed her way into his life. He wished a lot of things. His hands were on either side of her hip. She could kick him off whenever she wanted. But she didn’t. She just looked at him, horrified and sad and all kinds of emotions he couldn’t one-hundred-percent place. Her hair was splayed out around her head like a pool of blood. There was actual blood dribbling out the corner of her mouth—a thin red line.

                “Well. One of us ain’t leaving this room alive, Boss.”                     

                “Gage.”

                “And it looks like I can’t kill ya, though I should” After a long moment staring at her, he sat down on the ground across from her just as she started to sit up. She reached for her gun and flicked off the safety.

                “Let’s talk.”

                “’Bout what, Boss?” He leaned his head back against the bar. The wood was cool on the back of his neck. His eyes slid shut. What happens now happens, he supposed. He reached out to touch her face and she flinched. His thumb brushed away the trickle of blood on her lip, and he was so tempted to lick his thumb just to taste her. “I ain’t got shit left to say.”

                “I’m not killing you, Gage.” She didn’t sound as sure as her words did. 

                “The hell you ain’t.” He opened his eyes back up. She was so close to his face. Close enough where he coulda kissed her. She was staring all wide-eyed like she hadn’t seen this coming. Maybe she hadn’t. Maybe she’d thought she could change him—inspire him to be more like her and her damn merc and her soft-ass wastelanders. She’d thought fucking wrong, alright. He wasn’t gonna watch a settlement go down again, and he wasn’t gonna let her destroy Nukaworld because she thought she could change it, and he wasn’t gonna kill her. Only one option left, by his count.

            Gage grabbed her jaw and kissed her on the lips good and hard. She must have bitten her tongue in the fight; her mouth tasted like iron. And she didn’t yield to him like he imagined she would, and he wondered why he’d ever thought she’d surrender anything. Wasn’t like the Boss to give in—not now, not ever. Her mouth was wooden and hard against his, like he was kissing her bones. When she caught up with what was happening, all the air in her left her body in a huff, breathing into his lungs and filling him up until he was shaking. She jerked back hard, shoulders curled like she was trying to protect herself. Well, it was as good a “goodbye” as any.

                Porter Gage aimed his gun at her, right between her eyes. The barrel touched her forehead and she shivered. “You’ve got a fella. Two boys. A whole damn army you didn’t think to tell me about. You’re gonna kill me before I kill you, Lola, because you’ve got shit to live for.”

                “You wouldn’t.” She didn’t believe that. The fear in her eyes made him queasy.            

                “I almost already did, and I will for sure if you keep talkin’ at me.” He breathed out hard through his nose. “Don’t fuck around when life gives you chances, you hear me?”

                She pointed her gun at him—set it right against his temple. The metal was cool against his sweaty skin. Atta girl.

                “You’re a damn fool, Gage.”

                “Don’t let the rest of those fuckers kill you when they find out what you’re doing, alright?”

                “I won’t.”

                She hesitated another moment. Looked confused. Hurt. Like she might cry. Couldn’t have that, now. He started to squeeze the trigger but she was faster.

                What a cryin’ shame.


	10. Author's Note!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU!!!!!!!!! <3

                Hi all, Starlight here!

 

                Thank you so much for reading! I have been working on this one for a while and I am so glad some people have enjoyed it! I really wanted to play with the complicated relationship that Gage would have with someone equally as manipulative as he is, but fighting on the opposite side. I was really surprised at how much I liked him in-game. He is funny, interesting, and dynamic. Having to kill him really sucked, and I almost wrote a fix-it where he reconciles and realizes he can live as a settler, but I think it was really important to have a character disagree with the main character and prioritize himself over her, despite genuinely liking (loving) her. Lola has gotten really used to being able to sway most people to her side, so Gage was a huge shock for her. She really loved him as a close friend.  Moreover, everyone in-game seems to really trust settlements, even though there have been settlements getting walloped all over the Commonwealth for ages. Gage has every reason not to trust her, and it was interesting to explore that.

                I was just thinking about it and I wrote Gage and Mac as having opposite arcs with Lola. Mac sees her first when she is the most raw and most emotional and watches her get stronger. Meanwhile, Gage catches her when she is an established badass, and then slowly starts to see the softer and more vulnerable sides of her. Mac starts to love her while she is soft and as she gains confidence, Gage loves her when she is confident, but starts to resent her as she shows softness. I’m gonna go ahead and say that was intentional. It wasn’t, but I’m gonna say it was.

                Anywho! I appreciate the kudos and comments so much—more than anyone could know! Every time I see a new person interacting with the story, I make a goofy squealing sound and jump around. It really worries my cat. Thank you sosososososososososososooooo much for reading!

 

                I hope you are all well! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I reeeeally love Gage, and this has been sitting on my laptop for quite some time now, so I figured I would post it. As always, any feedback or commentary is absolutely welcome, good or bad! 
> 
> If you are interested, you can find my Tumblr here: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/starlightwrites. It is mostly Fallout/Mass Effect posts and Fanfic updates. :)
> 
> Thank you for your time! <3


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